


Loose Ends

by shushu_yaoi_lj



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bananas, Dream Sharing, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Red String of Fate, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Watford Eighth Year, Wet Dream, a bit of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shushu_yaoi_lj/pseuds/shushu_yaoi_lj
Summary: The first time I heard Penny and Agatha mention it, I honestly thought they were taking the piss. That it was another one of those false myths about the World of Mages.Soulmates.Really?
Relationships: Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 163
Kudos: 420





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [ Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) and [ commeunoasis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commeunoasis/pseuds/commeunoasis), who are both amazing and I wouldn't know what to do without them.  
> The first chapter is slightly angsty, but stay tuned because it will get better (promise).

**Simon**

The first time I heard Penny and Agatha mention it, I honestly thought they were taking the piss. That it was another one of those false myths about the World of Mages.

Soulmates.

Really?

I had other things to worry about anyway, like goblins trying to kill me or Baz plotting my demise. But then the teacher casually mentioned it at the end of our seventh year. She said that during our first lesson in September she would teach us the spell to reveal our soul bond. 

“Wait, what?” I asked Penny and she rolled her eyes and explained it to me.

“When a Mage turns eighteen, they can finally perform the spell to see their soul bond,” she said as we walked to lunch, “only you can see it, though. It’s supposed to look like a thread that is tied to your little finger and stretches into the distance, until it fades and disappears.”

“Weird,” I said.

“It has a different colour for each person and a distinctive shape. Some curl up, others are straight or have a zigzag shape.”

“And how is that supposed to help me find my soulmate?” I asked, looking at Agatha, walking just a few feet ahead and staring at Baz.

“If you perform the spell at the same time as your soulmate, the thread will appear and it will link to theirs. That’s the only time other people will be able to see the bond. The first time it happens is supposed to feel mind-blowing.”

“Wait, you’re already eighteen,” I pointed out, “have you already tried the spell?”

“Yes,” Penny said, sheepishly, her cheeks colouring slightly, “but I’m not going to tell you what it looks like, before you start asking. It’s traditional to wait until your eighth year and do it at Watford, but I decided to check when I turned eighteen. Some people do.”

I wonder if Agatha has checked hers. If her thread looks the same as mine.

I don’t even know when my birthday is.

I bet Baz has already found out about his bond.

When I leave Watford for the summer and I settle into the children’s home, I realise that I can’t do what I usually do. I can’t forget about Magic and Watford and Penny like every summer. I can’t stop thinking about that spell that will reveal my soul bond, the little thread that is supposed to be tied to my finger. I forgot to ask if it’s my left or right hand and I stare at both of them, waiting for dinner to be served (it’s going to be underwhelming and too little as usual anyway, might as well get distracted).

I wonder what colour it will be, what kind of shape. Will it last for long when I cast the spell or will it disappear straight away? I should have asked Penny more questions before leaving for the summer. I wonder if I can find a way to call her, but I’m afraid the Mage will get angry at me for contacting her for something that is not a matter of life or death.

I lie in the dark after dinner; the boy in the bunk bed below mine is snoring like a tractor, and I think about my soul mate. What if it’s not Agatha?

I want her to be my soulmate, I think, but things have been weird between us. After I saw her holding hands with Baz in the Forest, before the Humdrum took Penny and me away. Baz’s eyes on me, her eyes on him.

If Agatha’s not my soulmate, I will still have someone else, someone perfect for me. Someone who will love me.

I’ve never had anything like that in my life. Something only for me. But my soulmate will be mine alone. She will love me even if I’m a mess and my parents didn’t want me; even if I’m the worst Chosen One ever.

I don’t have a family, nor a home, but at least I have a soulmate. Someone who is meant for me, who will love me and who I will love back.

I’m not into romantic shit, but I want this.

I try not to think about it, but I simply can’t. Not this time.

The days are long, warm, and seem endless as usual, so I start counting them, thinking about going back to Watford, about that first lesson with Miss Possibelf.

If Agatha’s not the one for me (and as the days go by, I start to realise that there’s a strong chance that she isn’t), then what will my soulmate look like?

I close my eyes and try to think about what I would like her to look like. Black wavy hair, grey eyes, long limbs, pale skin, pouty lips. I open my eyes again and stare at my hands. I have a nagging feeling at the back of my head that there’s something I should know, like an itch in my brain, telling me that I’ve got to put together the pieces of a puzzle and I’m failing at it.

August is always the longest month for me and this year it drags and drags. Fucking endless.

I think about Baz more than I would like to. I always do during the summer. Because, somehow, I can usually push in a dark corner of my mind the memories of Penny and Agatha and Watford, but Baz refuses to be cast aside and is always hovering there, taking so much space. Too much space.

What if Agatha is his soulmate? I feel a pang in my chest, turning around in bed, imagining them kissing, his elegant fingers on her cheeks, her hand circling his waist. The boy next to me starts coughing in the dark.

“What the fuck, are you smoking again, Snow?” I hate that he calls me by my surname; only Baz can do that.

I don’t know why the thought of Baz being in love with Agatha bothers me more than the fact that she might not be the one for me. I will still have a soulmate, but I can’t stand the thought of Baz having one.

I try to close my eyes and relax, letting my magic settle down, curling up in a ball and focusing on something else. I think about my room at Watford, the familiar smell of Baz’s bath products coming from the en suite, my soft pillow and the gentle breeze coming from the open window, the sound of his breathing. I could reach for him, if I stretched my arm. I drift into a deep sleep and I dream. Of long legs, of dark eyelashes on pale cheeks, eyelids opening on grey eyes that smile at me. I dream of cool hands on my bare back, soothing my burning skin, gentle at first and then becoming demanding like mine, grabbing and claiming. I dream of soft lips on my neck, moving up to my cheeks, kissing my eyes shut, tracing the shape of my nose and then finally kissing my lips.

I wake up confused, a name on my lips, tears in my eyes.

I try not to think about it.

But I can’t.

Finally, August nearly comes to an end.

I keep on having the same dream, of cool hands on my naked body, soft lips meeting mine, a tongue sliding into my mouth, making me moan in the dark. I touch and squeeze, grab and stroke. My fingers circle around a cock that isn’t mine, move up and down on velvety skin. My soulmate gasps, whispers my name with a desperate baritone voice, our mouths colliding.

“Baz…”

I wake up and stare at the darkness, panting, his name still on my lips, my hands clutching the bedsheets. And I’m hard, like I’ve never been before, and a part of my brain is still half-asleep, but the other one is screaming that I shouldn’t be doing this, as my trembling fingers slide inside my tracksuit bottoms and close around my cock. I close my eyes with a sigh, trying not to make any noise, biting my lips as I pump my dick fast, thinking about him, trying to shut my brain, feeling the orgasm coming, like a pull at the bottom of my stomach, lights filling my vision. And I just whisper his name again and again as I spill into my hand, trying not to think, trying to simply lie there and enjoy the best orgasm I’ve ever had.

I normally sleep like a log after I get off, but this time I lie awake in the dark, trying to catch my breath and failing to (why am I still struggling to get the air through my lungs?), my mind going in a loop over the images of my soulmate that have crowded my dreams in the past month. And the pieces of the puzzle suddenly slot together in a painful way. I shake my head and refuse to admit the inevitable.

I can’t possibly want Baz to be my soulmate.

When morning comes, I feel so worn out that I struggle to get out of bed. They take us to a park to get some fresh air and I feel useless, like I might fall apart any minute, my heart like an open wound.

What did my dream mean?

Do I just have a fucked-up brain? Maybe it’s just hormones. Yes, maybe it’s just curiosity.

I’m so tired that I take a nap in the afternoon and I dream of Baz again. But this time he’s wearing his clothes. White tennis shoes, a t-shirt and shorts. He’s walking out of an imposing building, a racket in his hands, his wavy black hair fluttering in the breeze. He looks so stunning and I feel the need to reach for him, to touch him. And then he’s not alone. There are Numpties all around him and one is about to hit Baz in the head with a club. The fear stabs at me, a million needles through my skin, and I feel my magic bubbling up, like a wave about to crash and I let it all spill out, thinking of saving him, my anger rising to the surface as I groan. The numpties collapse, like rocks pushed over by an invisible force, and Baz gets his wand out and fights back, unaware of my presence.

I open my eyes in the dim light of the room and realise that I’m screaming.

“Simon, what’s wrong with you?” asks one of the social workers, opening the door and staring at me, “bloody hell, you gave me a heart attack!”

“Nightmare,” I croak out, my voice like sandpaper, my throat dry.

Is Baz okay?

**Baz**

Attacked by Numpties, just outside of the Club. Unbelievable. I bet the Mage sent them. Fiona seems to agree; Father said he’s investigating.

I pack my things for school and pause for a minute.

I’m dreading the first Magic Words lesson of the year. Miss Possibelf said she would teach us the spell to reveal our soul bond.

I don’t really want to know.

I know the spell already (I’ve known it since I was a child) but I don’t want to cast it.

What if I find out that I don’t have a soulmate?

I don’t have a soul. Why would I have a soulmate?

And besides, even if I do (which I strongly doubt), what if it’s some random bloke?

I’m in love with Simon Snow and there’s no way he’s my soulmate, so I might as well not find out.

I don’t want a soulmate. Simon Snow is the only one I want.

**Simon**

I’m stupidly excited and I hope my magic won’t fuck up the spell. I’ve been thinking about it all summer.

I can finally leave for school tomorrow morning and I’ve never felt so excited. I take a shower and sit on my thin hard mattress, while the others get ready for bed too. My curls are still wet, dripping water onto my worn-out white t-shirt. There’s a hole under my armpit and it bothers me, but I can’t mend it. The lights go off and I lie in the dark, my hand resting on my forehead, trying to relax, trying not to think.

I want to dream of him again.

I tell myself that I don’t actually want to have that kind of dream about Baz.

Except that I do.

I want to feel his skin against mine, my lips tracing the shape of his body, while he’s so pliant under my hands, whispering my name and making those sounds that drive me insane, day and night. I wonder if he actually sounds like that or if it’s just my imagination. He would never sound like that if it was me touching him. The dreams are becoming more vivid. At the beginning it was just glimpses of him, a vague feeling of his body next to mine, whispered words that were cut off and confusing. But now they’re clear and I can see his body in full, as if he were actually in bed with me. I can feel his cool skin pressed against mine, so soft, smelling divine. I can hear his sweet words clearly, stare into his grey mesmerising eyes and find him smiling back at me.

I don’t know how I’m going to face him tomorrow.

I close my eyes and focus on breathing, the air filling my lungs and then whooshing out. I think of the sunshine filtering through the leaves of the trees in the Wavering Wood. I think of my room, of our room, of Baz sleeping next to me, under a pile of blankets. His dark hair fanning the pillow.

The room shifts and it’s darker. A thick wooden bed, heavy and draped. Gargoyles carved into the trim, staring at me as I lift the blankets and sink into his embrace, his arms wrapping me tight, my face buried into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent.

“Baz…” I whisper, holding him tight, “I missed you.”

“Simon…” his eyes meet mine and he shudders in my arms, then my lips brush against his and I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his mouth on mine, his breath hitching, almost a sob. He opens his lips and I let my tongue slide inside, tasting him, moaning into his mouth as I grind my hips into his. He’s hard and so am I.

I need more, need to feel him more, and our clothes are suddenly gone. He lets out a loud gasp as his cool skin collides against my hot body and we both moan, our bodies pressed flush, his skin so soft and velvety as I run my fingers over his chest, down his hips. I shift and my cock slides against his, creating a delicious friction.

“Simon,” he whimpers, “Crowley…”

He can’t stop looking at me, his hands carding through my hair, his lips on my mouth, then down my neck. He rolls us over and he’s suddenly tracing a pattern of kisses down my chest, capturing my nipple into a wet kiss, sucking on it and making me swear. His fingers wrap around my cock and we both groan at the contact. Merlin, I’m so fucking close.

**Baz**

I wake up with a start, panting.

I’m completely naked. And hard.

My clothes are gone, the blankets at the foot of the bed, but I’m not cold. I’ve never felt so warm in my entire life. I stare at my cock, so hard and flushed pink, leaking precome onto my belly and I groan. I was having the best wet dream about Snow.

I’ve been having them all summer; it has been both the best and worst consolation from the lack of him. The real him.

I fish out some lube from the bedside table and start stroking myself, closing my eyes and thinking about the vivid dream I was having just a few minutes ago, about his warm skin against mine, his dick sliding so deliciously over mine. I think of him kissing me like the world is about to end, about his name on my lips, my mouth on his neck. He had a mole over his left nipple in my dream and I used it as a target while I sucked on it, feeling his cock getting even harder and wetter in my fist as I did so.

I’m suddenly really close and I shudder, my back arching, as I spill into my hand with a gasp, trying to keep my voice down as I come and feel waves of pleasure shaking my body, little sparks under my closed eyelids. I catch my breath, letting out a little moan.

Crowley, that felt amazing.

I clean myself with magic and then look for my clothes under the blankets and I can’t find them. Strange. I look on the floor, then under the bed, and I frown.

Where the fuck are my clothes gone?

**Simon**

I guess my magic got rid of the t-shirt with the holes for me. At least tomorrow I’ll get my new Watford uniform.

I still don’t know how I ended up in bed naked, but I managed to wank in the dark and no one woke up. I won’t be as lucky in our room, but at least I’ve got the en suite.

In the morning I get my things ready and leave with a light feeling in my chest. It’s the last summer I spend in a home; from next year I will be in a real _home_ with Penny. No more nuns and social workers.

I hop on the train and I can’t stop thinking about my soulmate. About Baz. About the dreams that I’ve had all summer long.

Not even the fucking goblin who tries to ambush me can put the smile off my face.

When I climb the stairs to Mummer’s House, running until I’m out of breath, I wonder if he’s already here. I open the door and find him standing there, unpacking his fancy suitcase. He got even taller over the summer, his legs so impossibly long, his back lean as he turns and his grey eyes land on me. We both stare at each other for what feels like endless minutes. And I feel myself blush, because I suddenly remember all my dreams of Baz, his naked body pressed against mine, making me shiver in pleasure, his needy mouth on me, the way he was calling my name like his life depended on it.

My cheeks catch fire and I start tugging on my curls, rooted to the spot.

“Snow,” he says, his voice lower than I can remember, “cat got your tongue already?”

“I…” I don’t really know what to say. We would normally be arguing and insulting each other by now, but I somehow only feel the need to kiss him senseless and I have no idea how to deal with that thought.

Shit, I want Baz.

**Baz**

He’s acting really strange.

He eventually groans, leaves his bag at the foot of the bed and then legs it. I catch a glimpse of his glorious arse as he closes the door behind himself and mumbles something unintelligible.

What the fuck is wrong with him today?

**Simon**

I can’t face him over dinner and he’s already gone when I get back to our room, probably hunting rats in the Catacombs.

I fall asleep, but I don’t dream of him and when I wake up, he’s there, under all his blankets, his face pale in the dim light of sunrise. And I feel my heart clenching in my chest as I watch him sleep, his breathing so soft it’s almost non-existent.

I could touch him, if I reached out. If I decided to stretch my arm.

Instead I stare at him, trying not to think, to just memorise all the little details of his features. His delicate ears, his soft wavy hair, his imperfect nose that I’m dying to trace with my fingertips, his pouty lips. Merlin, I want to kiss him so badly.

When it’s all too much and I feel the magic threatening to leak out, I get up and leave for breakfast, casting a glance back at his sleeping form.

I don’t know what to do with the storm raging in my head.

**Baz**

I’ve caught him staring at me. More than he normally does. At lunch, then at tea, while I was playing football with Niall. Then at the picnic his eyes wouldn’t leave me, so impossibly blue.

I want to reach out, grab his shirt and push him against a wall. Kiss him senseless or let him punch me, whichever he prefers as long as I get to touch him, feel his burning skin against mine.

He had a sprinkle of freckles on his hips in one of my dreams, so low that they were hidden by his boxer-briefs. I traced them with my lips, kissed them with my eyes closed.

Crowley, I want him so badly.

**Simon**

It’s finally the first day of school and I’m a bundle of nerves. Today I get to find out about my soulmate.

What if it’s Agatha?

What if it isn’t?

I know that deep down, I don’t want her to be. I try to push down the nagging feeling that I want _him_ to be my soulmate, as stupid and insane as it sounds. 

“Does anyone know the origin of the spell?” the teacher asks and Penny’s hand shoots up in the air.

“Shakespeare,” she replies.

“Let me guess, _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” I whisper and Baz turns and sneers at me.

“Honestly Snow,” he says, “ _Measure for Measure_. Don’t you know anything?”

I groan and flip him two fingers, just out of habit, but my eyes don’t leave his back.

“The spell is simple enough,” explains Miss Possibelf, “all you need to say is _Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know_ and then knock on your chest, where your heart is. Your bond should appear on the little finger of your left hand.”

I can feel my magic already threatening to spill out as I dry my sweaty hands on my trousers. I swallow loudly and look at Penny, who smiles reassuringly at me. Miss Possibelf asks us to pair up and practise and Penny starts, saying the words with magic and then staring at her hand with wonder.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” she says, “it’s such a fascinating thing.”

Agatha’s working with Gareth. She casts the spell and then stares at her left hand, then at her right, her brows furrowed and a confused look on her face. She wriggles her fingers and turns her hands, but then she smiles to herself. I wonder what she’s seen.

Baz keeps on staring at me and I try to ignore him, but my skin is itchy with magic, nearly sizzling and his grey eyes on me make me feel like I might go off any minute now.

“Baz, it’s your turn,” Niall says to him, but he simply stares at me and then I realise that it’s my turn too.

“ ** _Go to your b-bosom_** ,” I start, “ ** _Knock th-there, and ask your heart what it doth know._** _”_ I knock so hard on my chest that I’m probably going to leave a bruise, but nothing happens. I groan, but Penny tells me to try again, to articulate my words properly.

I try. Again and again, but I’m too flustered and my magic is spilling out of me and the room is suddenly full of smoke and the other students are coughing. And Baz’s eyes are still burning a hole through me.

“We’ll try again later in your room,” says Penny, dragging me out, “don’t worry.”

**Baz**

He didn’t manage to do it. I spent the whole lesson studying him, waiting for the moment he would go to Wellbelove and they would cast the spell and then kiss and disappear together into the sunset.

But Wellbelove was strangely quiet and Snow was a complete mess.

I didn’t cast mine. I pretended to, but there was no magic in my words.

I really don’t want to know.

**Simon**

We sit on my bed while Baz has violin practice and Penny makes me repeat the words until I can say them confidently.

“Ok, now try with magic,” she says and I take a deep breath.

“ ** _Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know_** ,” I say, holding my wand tight, and then knocking on my chest. I stare at my left hand and a silvery blue thread appears on my little finger, tied on my knuckle, curling up from the knot. It shines and flickers in the afternoon sun, but it doesn’t look the way Penny described it.

“Penny?” I ask, “you said it’s supposed to stretch from my finger and then disappear into the distance, right?”

“Yes,” she replies, “it’s supposed to look like someone is pulling at it. Because it’s tied to your soulmate’s.”

I stare at it and feel a rush of dread filling my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Surely not.

“Penny, it’s broken.”

“What do you mean it’s broken?” she asks, moving closer, grabbing my wrist.

“It lies limp from my finger. It doesn’t stretch and it looks like someone’s cut it.”

I finally look at her and see the pain and pity in her eyes. I know that look. I feel her hand squeezing my wrist, her lips curling into a grimace.

“Simon, I’m so sorry…”

“What does it mean?” I ask, because I’m sure she knows. Penny knows everything.

“It means,” she says and hesitates, then she takes a deep breath and rubs my arm gently, “it means that unfortunately your soulmate has died. I’m so sorry, Simon.”

“Died?” I ask, in disbelief, “are you sure?”

She nods and explains that it can happen, that if your soulmate dies, the thread gets severed and it looks the way I described mine.

I don’t have a soulmate.

I don’t have any parents. I don’t have a home. And I don’t even have a soulmate anymore. The place where I knocked a few minutes ago starts hurting really badly.

“You should have been able to feel it when it happened,” she says, cautiously, “you must have felt really unwell and be unconscious for at least a few days without explanation.”

I think about it and remember something one of the nuns said when I was little.

“I collapsed when I was five,” I recall, “I ended up in hospital and apparently the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. That was the only time I was ever unwell. I even remember it; the pain was out of this world.”

“You were five?” she says, her eyes filling with tears, “Merlin and Morgana, Simon…”

I don’t have a soulmate anymore.

“Does that mean that my soulmate was a child too?” I ask, feeling a wave of sadness washing over me, trying to push it down, not to think about it.

“It’s very likely,” she says and that’s when Baz decides to walk in.

He sees Penny and raises an eyebrow, but then he looks at me and he must see something on my face, because his expression changes. His eyes open wide and his grey pouty lips part just a fraction.

“What happened?” he asks and Penny stands up.

“Be nice to him,” she tells him, then she gives me a hug and leaves.

My soulmate’s dead.

My soulmate is not Baz.

**Baz**

I’ve never seen him looking like that.

Heartbroken. Devastated. Lost.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, thinking that he’s never going to reply, as he puts his face in his hands and makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat.

“Mind your own business,” he replies, his voice muffled and broken.

“Did you find out that you’re not Wellbelove’s soulmate?” I ask and regret it immediately, because he looks up and his eyes are full of tears and I can feel the magic oozing out of him, the smell making me dizzy.

“No, you tosser!” he shouts at me, angry tears falling down his ruddy cheeks. He wipes them away clumsily and I sit on my bed, in front of him, at a loss for words. He used to cry like this before the summer when we were much younger, but he’s toughened up. I’ve never seen him this distraught and it’s breaking my undead heart.

“Snow,” I say, unsure how to continue.

He hiccups and sobs, his nose running and his eyes red and puffy already. I hand him my handkerchief and just sit there with him, until he lies on the bed, facing the wall and continues crying. And I wish I could reach out, stroke his back, kiss the nape of his neck, hold him in my arms. Instead I just sit there in silence, because I can’t leave him, not when he’s like this.

**Simon**

“Snow, it’s dinner time.”

Baz is still there, his handkerchief is still in my hands, all bunched up and wet. I decide that I might keep it. I doubt he wants it back in this state. Who fucking cares; my soulmate is dead.

My body is shaken by a new wave of sobs and I hear Baz sigh behind me. I’m honestly surprised that he’s still here and his silent presence is giving me more comfort than he probably thinks. I was expecting him to take the piss and instead he’s trying to drag me to dinner.

“Let’s get something to eat, come on,” he says, standing up.

“No,” I whine, “I’m staying here. You go.”

There’s a moment of silence and then I hear the door open and close. I curl up in a ball and cry some more. I’m surprised I still have tears left in me.

I must doze off at some point, because when I open my eyes the room is dark and Baz is sitting on his bed again. He hands me a plate with some sandwiches and a glass of juice. I stare at it for a few seconds and I manage to mutter a broken _thank you_ , wondering what it all means. Baz got me food. There’s a little glimmer of hope in my heart that I try to push down, thinking that I should just feel upset for my soulmate now, instead of happy because my roommate doesn’t seem to hate me as much as I thought.

I sit up and eat in silence, then drink the whole glass in one go, my eyes avoiding his.

I stumble on my feet as I go to the loo and he catches me, a concerned look on his face. Has he fed? He looks paler than usual. The feeling of his hands on me is so familiar that it makes my heart clench, remembering all the dreams I had during the summer, but his fingers are gone before I can soak up their coolness. 

I brush my teeth and put my Watford pyjamas on, then I go back to bed and shut my eyes. Baz has opened the window and there’s a gentle breeze moving the curtains. My eyes hurt and my chest is so tight. I whimper and try to push down the thoughts. The memories of the thread lying limp and severed from my finger. Baz’s worried expression as he looked at me.

**Baz**

He eventually falls asleep and I wait in the dark, staring at him until his breathing evens out and his lips start moving. His eyelids flutter and he lets out a whimper, making a strangled sound. He’s having another nightmare.

I grab my wand and point it at his forehead.

“ ** _Sweet dreams_** ,” I whisper and the creases on his forehead immediately smooth down, his shoulders relax as his body slumps down and lips curl up in a blissful smile.

I’m about to leave the room when I hear him.

“Baz…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [ Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire) and [ commeunoasis ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commeunoasis/pseuds/commeunoasis), who are both amazing betas.  
> 

**Baz**

I’m about to leave the room when I hear him.

“Baz…”

I get closer and kneel down next to his bed. His eyelids are fluttering and there’s a soft smile on his lips. His fingers twitch on the pillow, freckles covering the back of his hand. I really want to kiss him.

“Mhhh,” he mumbles in his sleep.

I decide not to go out. I can feed tomorrow; it will be fine if I skip one day. I can’t leave him in this state anyway. What if he wakes up and he’s upset like earlier?

I put my pyjamas on and lie on my bed, staring at him and I reach out, for the first time ever. I allow myself to touch him, knowing that my spell is still working and he’s having a lovely dream, his blissful expression telling me that he’s finally happy. The tip of my fingers reach his hand and I close my eyes for a second, letting the warmth of his skin seep through mine. It’s barely a few inches of skin, but it feels like he’s setting me on fire.

“Baz…” my eyes snap open and I take my hand back immediately, afraid that he might be awake, but he’s still sleeping and he moves on the bed, snuggling closer to the edge, towards me.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and I falter.

What is he dreaming about?

**Simon**

I wake up feeling groggy and confused, my mouth dry and head heavy. It’s early and Baz is still asleep, his hair covering half of his pale face, falling in soft waves over his cheeks. The burning need to touch him makes me feel weird and guilty. I shouldn’t have these feelings for him. I should be heartbroken about the loss of my soulmate.

I stare at the ceiling, then I grab my wand from the bedside table and cast the spell to make the bond appear, my voice low so not to wake Baz. I knock on my heart and nothing happens. I try again and again, until the silver thread appears, turning a light shade of blue in the light of the sunrise. It dangles from my little finger, looking lost and broken. Exactly the way I feel.

Baz stirs and groans.

“Are you trying to set Mummers House on fire from the early morning?” he asks and I realise that my magic has started oozing out, so I try to take deep breaths to calm down and rein it in.

Baz stretches like a lazy cat and his grey eyes meet mine.

“Sorry,” I mumble, probably for the first time. It must be a nightmare for him to share a room with me.

He gets up, grabs some clean clothes and heads for the bathroom and then I hear the shower running. I stare at my left hand and the bond is gone, so I keep on casting the spell, until Baz comes out of the en suite, smelling like cedar and bergamot and he finds me crying again.

“Let’s go get some breakfast,” he says, sorting out his tie and looking impeccable as always.

“I’m not coming,” I reply and he stares at me, his mouth open in shock.

“Are you planning on skipping the most important meal of the day, Snow?”

“I’m planning on skipping the whole day,” I reply, turning and facing the wall, a small sob escaping my lips. I hear him huff and mutter something and then he’s gone. I close my eyes and try not to think. I desperately try, but I fail.

I had the most wonderful dream about Baz last night. He was lying in his bed next to me and then his hand reached for mine and he started touching my fingers, holding them and whispering that he was there for me and he wasn’t going to leave. I asked him not to stop and he left his bed to slide into mine. He held me in his arms and let me rest my head on his chest, and I could hear his heart beating softly under his ribs, his fingers in my hair, his lips on my forehead. And then he started telling me that he didn’t hate me, that he never did. He told me how much I meant to him. And I just listened, his fingers playing with my curls, gently tracing patterns on my back, making me feel safe. He called me “love” and I felt my heart melting for him.

I keep my eyes shut and hope to dream of him again. 

**Baz**

Bunce looks at me and I feel like she’s trying to pierce a hole through my head with the intensity of her glare.

“Where’s Simon?” she asks, sitting down in front of me. Dev nearly chokes on his breakfast and Niall quirks an eyebrow at her.

“He didn’t want to come,” I explain.

“Basilton, Simon has never missed a single breakfast.”

I know full well and I’m actually as concerned as she is about the whole situation. But I also have no idea what happened to him, so there’s not much that I can do. I wonder if it’s something to do with one of the stupid missions the Mage keeps on sending him to do.

“What’s up with him anyway?” I ask nonchalantly, wearing my best indifferent expression. Bunce stares at my friends and then purses her lips.

“Something’s happened to him,” she replies.

“No shit Sherlock, he’s spent half the day crying yesterday,” I scoff, “trouble in paradise with Wellbelove?”

“Agatha’s got nothing to do with it,” she explains, looking sad and turning towards her, “speaking of which, I should go and have a chat with her.”

She leaves and my friends look at me quizzically, but I just shrug (I blame Snow’s bad influence). He doesn’t come for our morning lessons either and he’s not in the Dining Hall at lunchtime. Bunce looks at me, a silent question in her worried eyes, and I nod.

Before our lunch break is over, we quietly head to Mummers House to check on him.

“How do you manage to get in?” I ask, “you’re a girl. You shouldn’t be able to.”

She flashes a mysterious smile at me and doesn’t bother answering.

We find Snow curled up like a cat on the bed, his hair shooting in different directions and his eyes puffy and red. He’s so pale that his freckles and mole stand out even more. He’s just back from one of his awful summers that leave him skinny and vulnerable looking and I just feel like wrapping him up in a soft blanket to feed him buttered up scones.

“Simon, you need to get up,” says Bunce, hands on her hips, “take a shower, grab some food and then come to our afternoon lessons.”

Snow’s eyes pause on her and then close.

“I can’t. Don’t want to,” he grumbles.

“Come on, Simon! I know you’re feeling upset, but it’s not the end of the world,” she says.

Snow’s blue eyes snap open and he slowly sits up, looking at the floor.

“It might not be the end of the world for _you_. You have parents who love you, a family. You have a home and a soulmate, but what the fuck do I have? Eh, Penny?” she stares at him, a faint blush covering her cheeks, “my parents abandoned me when I was born. Watford is my home, but this is our last year here and then what?”

“You know we’re going to get a flat together after school,” Bunce says gently, but that doesn’t seem to console him.

He looks at me and I think about the fact that it’s the last year I get to spend with him. And then we’ll part ways and I’ll probably see him again on a battlefield. I swallow, his eyes locking with mine.

“I’m the worst Chosen One ever,” he continues, “and my soulmate’s dead.”

“What?” I ask, in disbelief, my breath coming out short and I frown at him. That’s not possible.

“My bond is broken,” he says, his voice cracking, “it’s severed. Penny reckons my soulmate has died.”

I can’t stop staring at him and I feel my heart breaking for him. Because I was expecting him to be Wellbelove’s soulmate. Maybe someone else’s. But this? Snow having no one. He doesn’t deserve that. No one does.

“Snow…” I say and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want your pity, Baz.” But it’s not pity that I feel. I genuinely feel my heart breaking for him. Because I might be sick and desperately in love with him, but I still want him to be happy.

“It’s time to go,” Bunce says softly. She moves and gives Snow a quick hug that he receives stiffly. I cast a glance back at him, before closing the door on my way out, and he looks back, his blue eyes searching for something in mine.

“I’ll bring some food,” I say. I don’t even know why. He nods and then we leave.

I spend the afternoon in a daze, thinking about Snow and his broken bond. And a small part of me wonders if that means that he’s now free and he could be mine. I feel ashamed for even thinking that, his distraught face pulling at my heart strings and making me upset beyond words.

“Now that you’ve all found out what your soul bond looks like,” Miss Possibelf says, “you’re going to pair up for a special project.”

I look around and all my classmates stare excitedly at our teacher, wondering what she’s going to get us to work on. I feel empty and miserable. I wish I could be excited like them, but I don’t have a soulmate either. I’m like Snow.

“I want you to find a partner and work on a tracking spell that will enable you to locate your soulmate,” Miss Possibelf announces with a smile, “you can use old or new spells, but beware that it’s not going to be an easy task, as some of your soulmates might not be close by. You have two weeks to complete the task and I’m expecting an essay of at least two thousand words on your discoveries and the methods you’ve used.”

She tells us to move around and pair up; all the other students start chatting and seem to already know who they want to work with. Bunce’s eyes meet mine and then Wellbelove grabs her arm and looks at her with a worried expression on her face.

“Penny, I need you to work with me,” she says, which leaves Bunce surprised.

I see Niall walking towards me, when I suddenly put my hand up and act without thinking.

“Miss Possibelf? Snow is unwell today. Can I pair up with him?” I ask and the whole class falls silent. The teacher frowns at me and seems to study me for a few minutes. “We’re roommates, so that might be easier.”

Neither of us have a soulmate. At least he won’t have to pair up with someone who is going to end up with a happily ever after.

“Very well, Mr Pitch,” she says and I can’t shake off the feeling that the rest of the class thinks that I’m plotting something. Niall elbows me as he gets closer.

“What’s the plan this time?” he asks, winking at me.

“No plan,” I reply, but he clearly doesn’t believe me.

**Simon**

The hours go by and I find myself waiting for Baz to return. I imagine he might go to the library to study, skip tea and then go straight to dinner to play with the food on his plate as he usually does. Then he might disappear to go feast on rats and I’ll probably see him when it’s dark.

The door suddenly opens and I jump up.

He’s alone, his hair no longer slicked back, but falling in gentle waves around his face. His grey eyes are still sad and uncertain as they stare into mine.

“You’re early,” I say, looking at the clock on his bedside table. The lessons finished not even fifteen minutes ago. He must have run here.

Why?

“I brought you some food,” he says, taking his shoes off and coming closer to hand me a plate wrapped in clingfilm. I peek at it and it contains a selection of sandwiches, some fruit and brownies.

“Thanks,” I mutter, wondering where he got them. They’re not even serving tea yet. I’m incredibly hungry, so I start eating straight away, hungrily and messily. Baz raises an eyebrow and sits on his bed, frowning at me.

“No need to be a caveman, Snow.”

“Starving,” I reply, my mouth full and he rolls his eyes.

“So,” he starts, “I’m going to lend you my notes for the lessons we share.”

I nearly choke on the bread I’m eating and stare at him. Baz Pitch is offering his notes. To me.

“Have you bashed your head on the way here?” I ask.

“I beg your pardon?” he frowns.

“There’s no other logical explanation,” I reply and he sneers.

“I was just trying to be nice to you.”

“As if. I told you, I don’t need your pity,” I say, slowly, to let the words sink in. And it’s the truth; pity is not what I want from him.

I think I want something else, but I’m too afraid to name exactly what.

“Not pity,” he shakes his head, “I need you to be up to date with coursework because we’ve been paired up for a two-week project for Magic Words.”

“Me and you paired up?” I ask in disbelief, grabbing a banana and starting to peel it. Baz looks at it and then at my mouth and I swear that his eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bobs on his neck. “I’m surprised you didn’t kick a fuss.”

He keeps on staring at my hands and at my mouth and I point at the plate.

“There’s two bananas, do you want one?” I ask.

“I don’t really like them,” he says, “too much potassium.”

He stares at the one I’m holding and I lick my lips, enjoying the unexpected reactions I’m getting from him. He shifts on the bed and crosses his legs as I open my lips, slowly putting the banana in my mouth. Baz’s lips part and lets out a shuddered breath. I suddenly feel a thrill and I want to push him even further.

I think about the Baz in my dreams, so responsive under my hands, moaning under me as I make him fall apart. And I want to see that in real life. I want to see him losing control because of me.

Instead of biting the banana, I shove as much of it as I can manage into my mouth and I briefly suck on it and then release it. It’s covered in saliva and Baz can’t stop looking at it. I smirk and move a bit closer to him, my foot touching his, between our beds. I’m not wearing any socks and the soft fabric of his posh expensive ones feels cool against my toes. He doesn’t move, just stares at me, looking lost and a bit dishevelled.

“What’s the project about?” I ask, resuming my administrations and putting the banana back into my mouth and lowering it slowly.

“Mhh?” Baz mumbles, licking his lips, his pupils blown wide. I swear I can see him running his tongue on his teeth. Is his mouth going to fill with fangs?

Does he want to bite me?

The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

“Magic Words. Project?” I remind him, while the banana is temporarily out of my mouth.

“Oh,” he says, tucking a loose lock behind his ear and looking away. I swear he would be furiously blushing right now, if he had enough blood in him. “We need to work on tracking spells.”

“Tracking spells?” I ask, finally biting on the fruit, since he’s no longer looking at it. He shifts uncomfortably on the bed, readjusting his trousers.

“Miss Possibelf wants us to track our soulmate,” he says, his eyes locking with mine and I nearly drop the banana on the bed.

“Oh…”

“But I reckon we can convince her to just let us write an essay on tracking spells in general and practise finding something else,” he adds quickly, “I’m sure she would be happy with that.”

I had forgotten about it for a bit, while Baz was talking to me and he was being nice and possibly a bit turned on. I remember the silvery string hanging from my finger and I clench my fists. How could I forget about my soulmate?

“Snow, my mother died,” he says and I look up at him.

“I know,” I say. Penny told me about it and I’ve seen her portrait in school. What’s that got to do with our school project?

“She was my father’s soulmate,” Baz explains, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning closer, “so he lost his soulmate too.”

“Oh…” I don’t know where this is going, but it’s the first time we’re having a civil conversation and I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying it.

“But he found my step-mother, Daphne, and now they’re happy together. They have four children.”

“Well, I’m glad for them,” I say, thinking that I actually don’t give a shit about Malcolm Grimm and his newfound happiness. He’s got power and money and I doubt he struggled to find someone to marry him. Baz seems to get frustrated.

“What I’m trying to say is that not everything is lost,” he says, “you can still find someone and be happy.”

I want to ask him why he’s telling me this, but instead I stand up and sit next to him on his bed, my hips brushing against his.

“What are you doing?” he asks, moving away, but I grab his wrist.

“Baz, what about your soulmate?” I ask.

**Baz**

I stare at him and I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting him to ask me about my soul bond. I turn and start playing with the soft fabric of my trousers, pinching the pleat with my fingers.

“Don’t worry about my soulmate,” I say, “it doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t you want to find her?” he asks.

“Her?” I raise an eyebrow and lock eyes with him again. “How thick are you, Snow?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, all defensive, his cheeks turning red and his eyes flashing angrily.

“I mean that I’m gay,” I reply, my tone even and he immediately deflates, his ears turning red.

“Oh…” he says, his mouth opening and closing, probably wondering how to reply to my unexpected coming out, “I-I didn’t know…”

“Clearly,” I reply, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed. I don’t even know why I told him. I guess I didn’t want him to think that I’m being a good Samaritan here. A part of me wants him to know that I might have ulterior motives. Another part wants him to never realise that I love him so much that it keeps me awake at night, my undead heart hurting in my chest.

At least he hasn’t punched me yet. Nor has he moved away from me in disgust. And what was he up to with that banana? I swear he was teasing me; my fangs nearly popped and I got a boner just from staring at his mouth (who sucks on a banana anyway?).

“Well, don’t you want to find _him_?” he asks, relentless, his fingers moving down my hand brushing against mine, his blue eyes on me.

There’s a loud knock on the door and we both jump. His hand moves away from mine and he looks at me uncertainly.

“Come in!” he shouts and I think we both assume it’s going to be Bunce, but when the door opens, the Mage appears instead and I feel him tense next to me, my own back going stiff in apprehension. What the fuck is he doing here?

“Simon,” he says, looking surprised to see him sitting on my bed right next to me and not even bothering to hide his disdain for me, “I need to speak to you.”

“Sir,” Simon says, fidgeting, “I’m sorry I didn’t attend my lessons today.”

“You didn’t?” the Mage asks, bemused, “it doesn’t matter. There’s something I need to tell you. In private.”

He gestures at me and then at the door and I suddenly feel a wave of rage inside me. He didn’t even ask Snow the reason why he didn’t attend the lessons. He looks like a wreck; he’s still in his pyjamas and his eyes are red and puffy. All it takes is a look to figure out that something’s wrong with him. And yet, the Twat doesn’t even bother noticing the obvious.

“I’m going to stay here, but you can talk,” I find myself saying, “this is my room after all.”

Snow casts a glance at me and I see his cheeks turning the prettiest shade of pink. He nods and then moves an inch closer, his bare foot shifting on the floor until it rests against mine. Crowley, how does he feel so warm?

The Mage doesn’t look impressed and he crosses his arms in front of his chest, glaring at me.

“Simon, maybe we should have this conversation in my office.”

“No,” he says, his voice low and uncertain, “we can talk here, Sir.”

I think he’s surprised himself by his bold suggestion; the Mage certainly looks like he wasn’t expecting it. But I have a feeling what he needs to tell Snow is going to be unpleasant and maybe Snow is aware of it too.

“Very well,” the man says, his stupid moustache quivering in barely concealed rage, “I think it’s time for you to leave Watford, Simon.”

“What?” Snow asks, in shock, “leave school? But the year has just started!”

“You’re not safe here,” he continues and I feel the panic rising in my chest. He wants to take Snow away. Now that we’ve finally started talking and I could almost feel like he wanted to get closer to me (and not with the intention of ending me), the Mage wants to take Simon somewhere else.

I’m not going to let him.

This is my last year with him, the last time in my sad and pathetic life that I get to spend crashing against the sun that is Simon Snow and I’m not going to let the Mage take him away from me.

I open my mouth to protest, but Snow beats me to it.

“No,” he says, “I don’t want to go.”

I finally turn. His eyes are bright and he’s frowning, his beautiful body all tense, a vein pulsing in his neck. Crowley he smells amazing. He hasn’t showered and his smell is so strong, intoxicating, mixed with the adrenaline flooding his veins, giving it a tinge of smokiness. I haven’t fed in too long and I suck on my teeth, willing my fangs away. Snow is too close and smells too good.

“Simon, I found a place where we can hide you. The school is not safe for you anymore and you’re the best weapon we have.”

“Weapon? Do you realise he’s a person?” I blurt out and then realise that I’ve been rude, so I quickly add, “Sir.”

“Stay out of this, Pitch.”

Simon shifts closer to me, our hips touching, his elbow resting against mine, making me nearly swear under my breath. Crowley, he’s so warm.

“I’m not going,” he repeats, “I want to stay here, Sir.”

“Nonsense,” the Mage replies and moves towards us, holding his hand out and trying to grab Snow’s wrist, but he leans into me instead and avoids the Headmaster’s hand.

“Simon,” he says threateningly and then he gets his wand out, “don’t make me force you. It’s for your own good.”

Snow’s wand is on his desk, I spot it immediately. He would probably blow the whole building up if he tried to use it now. I can hear his heart beating madly in his chest and I think fast, pondering my options. I get my own wand from the sleeve of my shirt and they both stare at it.

“Don’t you dare,” the Mage says to me, his tone stern and fuelled with rage.

Snow’s hand grabs my arm and I suddenly feel a rush of magic flowing into me, like an electric current sizzling through my veins. And I’m so full of magic that I feel giddy with it, the sparks catching fire inside me.

“ ** _Simon says_** ,” I cast, without thinking. 

“Leave me alone!” Simon shouts and the Mage is suddenly blown back by an invisible force that sends him crashing against the wall, his head knocking hard and making him collapse on the floor.

We both stare at him in disbelief, then at each other and I can feel the panic in his eyes.

The Mage stands up on shaky legs and then glares at me.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” he mutters under his breath and then he opens the door and leaves, slamming it behind his back.

We’re both breathing hard and there’s complete silence in the room for a few minutes that stretch until I feel the need to run away.

Did Snow give me his magic? How is that even possible? And why?

“Why did you help me?” he breaks the silence.

I still feel confused by the magic he poured into me, by his warmth and the way he smells; he’s so close to me that our shoulders are touching. His eyes lock with mine, and I feel like I might drown in them. Why are his lips so beautiful? Just a few inches and I could reach for them, kiss him or let him kill me in the attempt.

“Baz?” he asks, leaning in, our noses almost touching, “why did you cast that spell to help me?”

I don’t know what to say, all I want to do is kiss him or bite his neck, right where his Adam’s apple is, because he’s too warm and he smells divine and I haven’t fed in too long. He’s wearing his cross and I can feel it, like static in my mouth, but I’m too thirsty and he’s leaning in even closer.

“I don’t want you to leave,” I blurt out, regretting it immediately, thinking about running away, before it’s too late, but then he grabs my arm and moves and he’s so close (is he going to kiss me? Am I delusional?) and then it happens.

My fangs pop.

I stand back and cover my mouth with my hand. He stares at me with his mouth open and I can practically feel his heart beating madly in his chest.

“I need to go,” I say, standing up and running away, before he can grab me again.

**Simon**

I find him in the Catacombs. There’s a trail of dead rats leading to him and he’s standing in front of a grave. I walk towards him and realise that it’s his mum’s. I haven’t followed him here in so long. It’s cold and it smells funny. I kind of feel bad for him, because he has to hide here every evening to feed on rodents, but it’s better than draining virgins.

“Have you come to gloat? Is the Mage waiting outside with the rest of the Coven?” he asks, his voice thick. I think he’s been crying.

“Why would they be there?” I ask, waiting for him to turn. He doesn’t.

“You’ve finally got the proof that you needed. All you have to do is tell the Mage and you’ll finally get rid of me. They’ll pull out my fangs and snap my wand.”

“Why do you think I’d do that?” I ask, confused.

He finally turns and his pink cheeks are wet with tears in the dim light, his mouth looks fuller than usual and grey eyes glare back at me.

“Snow, you’ve spent years trying to convince everyone that I’m a vampire and I know you’ve seen my fangs earlier.”

“So you admit it,” I say, walking closer, until I’m standing a few inches away from him, our chests nearly touching. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes look down at my neck, at the cross Agatha gave me.

“I’ve never bitten anyone,” he whispers, “only animals.”

I grab the chain and pull it off my neck, then throw it on the floor, away from him.

“Well then, there’s no reason to tell anyone,” I reply and his eyes open wide, staring back at mine. He’s a few inches taller and all I would need to do to kiss him is tilt my head up or stand on tiptoes. I was about to cross the short distance between us in our bedroom earlier, before his fangs popped. I suddenly felt the burning need to find out what his lips tasted like. If they were the same as in my dreams.

He said he didn’t want me to leave.

He could have simply used my magic to hex the Mage, but instead he cast a spell to let me decide what to do.

“Why did you give me your magic?” he asks, his mouth going back to normal. Shame, I wanted to see his fangs.

“I don’t know,” I reply, “I just acted on impulse.”

I wanted his help. I didn’t want to go away and leave him.

“Typical,” he scoffs, “well, it’s not normal. I’ve never heard of mages sharing magic before. So, I wouldn’t tell anyone, if I were you.”

My fingers brush against his arm, through the soft fabric of his jumper and he shudders.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” I say, moving my fingers up his arm. I don’t even know what I’m doing; I just know that I desperately need to feel his skin against mine.

“Which one?” he asks softly, “you’re constantly harassing me and it’s hard to keep track.”

“What about your soulmate?” I say, “what does your bond look like?”

He turns his head and tilts it up, his jaw going stiff.

“Baz?” I ask, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re a vampire, but I want you to answer my question.”

His head snaps back and he raises one of his perfect eyebrows at me.

“Are you blackmailing me now, Snow?”

I laugh and shake my head.

“Let’s call it a truce, shall we?”

“I don’t think you know how that works,” he says with a grimace. I want to kiss it off his lips.

I want to kiss him so badly and I lean a little bit closer, until my nose bumps against his.

“So?” I whisper, my breath warm on his lips.

“I don’t know. I haven’t cast the spell, because I don’t want to find out about my soulmate,” he finally says, his voice so low that I nearly miss it, “I don’t even have a soul.”

I step back and stare at him.

“Of course, you have a soul!” I reply, surprised that he may think otherwise, but he shakes his head.

“I lost it when I was bitten. When my mother was killed.”

He looks at the grave, his fingers tracing the stone gently, his eyes soft.

“I’ll help you find him,” I say, without thinking.

“What?” he asks, surprised.

“We’ll find your soulmate and I’ll prove you wrong,” I repeat, “because you most definitely have a soul.”

He stares at me and seems to be uncertain, probably wondering if I’ve gone mental. So I hold my hand out to him and he hesitates for a few seconds, but then he takes it.

And I suddenly recognise this feeling, his long cool fingers nestled in my hand, his thumb gently rubbing against my skin. I’ve felt it before, in my dreams. We’ve held hands and fallen asleep, our fingers interlaced, his voice whispering how much I mean to him in my ears.

“Truce,” he whispers.

“Truce,” I reply, holding onto his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still alive and I have not abandoned this story! I’m back on track and planning on posting it fairly regularly (I might alternate with my other Drarry fic).

**Baz**

Snow is snoring. He’s got a bit of drool on the side of his mouth and I would honestly lick it off. How the fuck do I manage to find it endearing?

I’m disturbed; there’s no other possible explanation.

Since Snow is still sound asleep, I fish out my mobile phone from under the bed. I only use it for emergencies, but I need to contact Fiona about something that’s been on my mind since yesterday. I turn it on and hide it under my duvet, facing the wall.

**Baz (6:32)** : How are you doing, Fiona? Any news on the Numpties’ attack?

I wait a few minutes, but she obviously doesn’t reply (she normally wakes up around 11 o’clock).

**Baz (6:37)** : The Mage tried to convince Snow to leave Watford, claiming that it wasn’t safe. He also told me “you shouldn’t even be here”. The Twat is up to something.

I don’t tell her that Snow has seen my fangs and that he has decided he doesn’t want to grass on me to the Coven. I still can’t believe that he doesn’t plan on using that against me. It was his chance to end me and he offered me a truce instead.

I turn the mobile off and check if Snow is still asleep. He’s now lying on his side, facing me, and I can’t help but stare at him for a while. At his peaceful face, covered in freckles and moles, his golden skin and pink lips.

“Mmhhh…” he mumbles in his sleep, “Baz…”

I open my eyes wide. He’s dreaming of me again and he’s smiling.

I wish there was a spell to reveal other people’s dreams. Or maybe not, otherwise Snow would find out about my collection of incredibly debauched wet dreams that involve him in all sorts of positions and different stages of undress.

I put the phone away and lie awake in bed, staring at him, until he stirs and I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“Baz?” he asks and I open my eyes, “what are you doing in your bed?”

“Where else am I supposed to be, you moron?” I ask, “it’s not even 7 o’clock.”

He rubs his eyes and yawns, making a show of it as per usual. 

“Here,” he replies and then he looks back at me, opens his mouth and blushes.

“Snow, have you knocked your head against the wall or something?”

He mumbles something and runs to the bathroom to take a piss. 

I get up and gather my clothes, then as soon as he’s out, I head for the bathroom, starting the shower. I let the warm water wash over me, drowning my thoughts of Snow and his perfect lips and warm skin. I’ve been dreaming of him again, of lying in his bed with his body wrapped around mine, whispering my feelings into his ear, his fingers interlaced with mine.

I get out of the shower and start my daily skin care routine and then I get dressed, wondering if Snow is going to finally come back to class today (at least he took a shower yesterday evening, so his intoxicating smell is not too strong). I reach for my hair mousse and find it gone. Weird.

“Snow, have you taken my mousse?” I ask, popping my head out and finding him sitting in bed, buttoning up his shirt, his trousers unfastened. He blushes and I feel my mouth watering. Shit, he looks so delicious.

“Your what?” he asks, “since when are you eating dessert in the bathroom?”

“Hair mousse, you numpty,” I shake my head, “it was in the cabinet next to the mirror and it’s gone.”

“Baz, I don’t even know what half of your products are for,” he shrugs.

“Clearly…” I mutter, raising an eyebrow and pointing at his messy curls. They’re lovely and look so soft. I hope he never learns about the existence of hair gel.

“You look nicer with your hair down, anyway,” he says, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink and I just stare at him.

Has he just said that I look nice?

He must have bashed his head in his sleep. 

There’s no other possible explanation.

**Simon**

Baz is acting weird, but at least he doesn’t ask about the hair thingy again. I have a bad feeling about it.

My magic has been acting strange and a few things have started disappearing (like, where the hell are all my pens gone?) and I have a feeling it might have something to do with it. Maybe I wished too much for his hair not to be slicked back and my magic got rid of the mousse for me.

Who knows?

I head for breakfast, grab a tray of food and then sit next to Penny, who just smiles at me and starts talking about our lessons for the day, as if nothing happened. Agatha is looking at me from another table and I suddenly remember that I haven’t even thought about her in the past couple of days.

I suppose I need to break up with her, since she’s not my soulmate and I seem to be more concerned about Baz’s hair than about her.

I decide to go and talk to her, when Penny groans next to me.

“Oh no, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters, pointing at the table in front of ours, where Keris and Trixie are standing up, their wands raised and a solemn look on their faces.

“Are they about to duel or something?” I ask, confused.

“No, I bet they’ve decided to find out if they are each other’s soulmates.”

They both start casting the spell at the count of three.

“ ** _Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know_** ,” they say and then knock on their chest with trembling hands. There’s a flash of blinding light and a series of loud gasps, and then I can clearly see it. A green and curly thread, stretching from Trixie’s little finger and reaching Keris’s. They both start crying and hug each other, and the bond is gone. They keep on looking at their fingers, as if they could still see it.

People start clapping and I feel a void inside me. Like a whirlpool of sadness and negative thoughts that threatens to pull me down again. 

That will never be me. I will never meet my soulmate.

I turn and find Baz staring at me, a concerned expression on his face, grey eyes worried, waiting for my reaction. I nod at him (I don’t even know why) and go back to eating my breakfast, even though I’ve lost all appetite and it tastes like cardboard in my mouth.

I just want to go back to bed.

**Baz**

Fucking show-offs. Did they have to do it in the Dining Hall?

Poor Snow, he had just managed to find the courage to come back and the last thing he needed was a reminder of what he had lost.

“I bet they just wanted to get out of Miss Possibelf’s assignment,” Niall says, “now that they’ve found each other, they don’t have to do the essay on tracking spells.”

“As if she’s going to let them get away with it,” Dev comments, smirking, “they’re going to get buried in extra homework.”

“Serves them right for showing off,” I say with the iciest tone I can manage, my eyes still glued to Snow’s sad face. I suddenly feel like hexing Keris and Trixie for upsetting him, especially now that he was trying to get back on his feet.

“Are you jealous?” my cousin teases, elbowing me and nearly making me spill my cup of tea, “you’ll find your own soulmate. I bet he’s going to be fit, rich and with a perfect arse.”

“And a big cock,” Niall adds, making me choke on my Earl Grey.

“Honestly!” I say, outraged, “I’m trying to have breakfast.”

They start laughing and then share a look that I don’t know how to interpret. 

Niall starts playing with a loose strand of hair and he bites on his bottom lip. His spoon makes a clinking sound against the porcelain of his breakfast bowl.

“I bet I’ll never find my soulmate,” he says, his voice low and eyes drowning in his bowl of cereals.

He suddenly looks worried and I wonder if he’s scared of not finding his soulmate. Dev insistently stares at my best friend and I’m about to ask what’s up with them, when my cousin gets his wand out of his sleeve and points it at Niall.

“We should take the piss and show them how it’s done,” he says, a manic grin on his face.

“What do you mean?” Niall asks, his brows furrowed.

Dev stands up and clears his voice.

“Niall, darling,” he says out loud, “light of my life, sweetheart, fluffy bear. I think the time has come to show everyone – and when I say everyone, I mean the _whole_ school – how much we mean to each other.”

A mischievous smile spreads on Niall’s face as the rest of the breakfast crowd turns quiet. I notice Keris and Trixie glaring at us with an annoyed look on their faces. I guess they’re going to get upstaged.

“Oh, Devvy Boo-boo,” Niall says, a hand on his heart, his tone so sweet that I feel like gagging, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He gets his wand out too and they stand up, their eyes locked and a matching grin on their faces.

“Will you two stop behaving like wankers?” I ask, rolling my eyes and trying to eat some breakfast whilst covering my mouth. I feel Snow’s eyes on me and I look back.

“On the count of three,” Dev says and then they both start counting and cast the spell at the same time, “ ** _Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know_**.”

They knock on their chest Tarzan style and then burst out laughing as soon as they’re done, but then there’s a flash of light and I turn towards them. 

There’s a red thread connecting their little fingers.

They both stare at it, their mouths agape, as the thread shimmers and flickers gold for a few seconds and then disappears.

They stand completely still for what feels like ages, eyes glued to the thread that links their fingers and only they can still see.

Then, all of a sudden, tears start falling down Niall’s eyes, his hand trembling out of control as Dev grabs his fingers and takes a step closer. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do or what to say and keeps on shaking his head.

“I thought,” my best friend says, a sob escaping his lips, “I always assumed you were straight and that I had no hope.” 

“What?” Dev asks, his voice low, “I thought you were in love with Baz.”

“I’ve been in love with _you_ since first year,” Niall whispers, “since the Crucible brought us together.”

“Niall,” Dev murmurs, his thumb swiping over my best friend’s pale skin.

“Are you two for real?!” I ask, in disbelief, “what the actual fuck? You’re soulmates?”

Niall covers his face with his free hand and starts sobbing and Dev finally snaps out of it and pulls him closer, letting Niall bury his face in the crook of Dev’s neck.

“Hey, I got you,” my cousin whispers, kissing his head, “I think we need to have a chat in private. And possibly a long snog.”

Niall lets out a shaky laugh and nods and he lets Dev drag him away, towards the main entrance. They are going to be late to our first period, but I have a feeling they don’t give a shit.

I suddenly realise that I’m feeling jealous. There’s a pang in my chest and a lump in my throat.

I’ll never have what they have. 

I’ll never find my soulmate.

Worse, I’ll never have Simon.

**Simon**

Baz looks upset. I had no idea his friends were in love with each other. 

Judging from the look on his face, he probably didn’t know either.

“What on earth is going on this morning?” Penny says, exasperated, “why are they all in such a rush to find their soulmates? I bet they’re trying to avoid doing the Magic Words assignment.”

I shrug and stuff my mouth with buttered crumpets. I see Agatha eating her breakfast alone and I suddenly feel the urge to sort things out with her. 

“I need to speak to Aggie,” I say, standing up, “I’ll be back.”

“Be nice to her, she seems to be in a weird mood,” Penny says.

I sit opposite my girlfriend and her eyes meet mine.

“Simon,” she murmurs, her hair glimmering in the morning light. She looks so beautiful, like a doll or one of those fairies from illustrated children’s books. She looks perfect and unreachable. But I don’t feel my heart beating madly in my chest when I look at her or when I think about her. It’s not the same as when Baz is on my mind.

He makes me feel alive, like my blood is boiling and my skin is on fire.

“I think we should break up,” the words leave my mouth before I even manage to formulate a clear thought, “because you’re not my soulmate and I…I think…”

“You’re in love with someone else,” she blurts out, looking surprised by her own admission.

“I-I don’t know,” I reply, “but I’ve been thinking about someone else for the past couple of months.”

Months, or possibly years, I realise. How long has Baz been on my mind? He’s always there, like an insistent thought that refuses to leave, like an itch that I can’t help but scratch. 

He’s part of me. 

I need him in my life. He makes my heart beat faster, he’s in my veins and in every single one of my cells. I remember all the summers I’ve spent thinking about him, wondering if I was simply missing him.

I want him so badly. 

I close my eyes and all the dreams I’ve had of him start flooding my mind, like the most amazing film playing in my head, behind my closed eyelids.

I want the dreams to come true.

I want to touch him and hold him and whisper in his ears that I need him. 

But he’s not my soulmate.

“Oh, Simon,” Agatha whispers, her hand covering mine, gently.

I realise that I probably have a desperate look on my face. I swallow loudly as my fingers reach for my curls, tugging at them mercilessly.

“I don’t think I’ve got any hope,” I mutter, “my…you see, my soulmate is dead,” Agatha’s brown eyes open wide and I can see specks of gold near her pupils, “so this person…I’m not their soulmate. So it’s pointless, really.”

We sit there in silence for a few minutes, until Penny sits down next to me and studies us, her piercing gaze hovering just above her glasses.

“What’s up with you two?” she asks.

“We just broke up,” I answer, hoping this explanation will be enough.

“Oh, that’s for the best,” Penny says matter-of-factly and Agatha raises an eyebrow at her, which reminds me of Baz.

I turn and find him staring at me, his gaze so intense that I feel like he’s trying to carve a hole through me.

I wonder what he’s thinking about.

**Baz**

Wellbelove’s hand is still on top of his and if it weren’t for the fact that she’s clearly not Snow’s soulmate, I would have already tried to incinerate her. 

Snow looks at me and I cock an eyebrow at him.

Our first lesson of the day is Magic Words and we’ll have to work together on our project. I’m not sure if I’m ready for it, but at least he won’t be spending any more time with his girlfriend.

I grab my things and head for the lesson. 

“Hey, Baz! Wait,” Snow runs after me, catching up with me as I pretend to ignore him and feel my heart melting in my chest at the same time. “You need to tell me about this research we’re supposed to work on for class. I have no idea what we’re meant to do.”

“Clearly,” I sneer, “you were too busy catching up with your girlfriend.”

“I was actually busy breaking up with her,” he replies and I stop in my tracks, giving in and looking into his blue eyes. The most boring shade of blue, I try to remind myself. And yet, why do I feel like I’m drowning in them?

“You two broke up?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Yes,” Snow nods, “there’s no point in being together, since she’s not my soulmate.”

I see.

He’s not my soulmate either, but I would do anything to be with him.

“Some people are willing to be with each other even though they’re not soulmates,” I say, trying to make a point, “just because they love each other.”

Because I love him so much that I would break a vein for him. I would give all that I’ve got for a chance to be with him, even if we don’t share a soul bond.

“I don’t think I’ve actually ever been in love with Aggie,” Snow admits, scratching his nose, “I…someone else made me realise it…Baz, I…”

“Simoooon!” Bunce calls him from behind us and Snow turns, but my eyes can’t leave his freckled face. 

What was he trying to say?

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Bunce says, grabbing his elbow and dragging him inside the classroom.

Miss Possibelf is already waiting for us, a stern expression on her face as she unpacks her bag and glares at a few of us.

“Miss Possibelf clearly looks pissed off,” Snow mutters behind me. I want to turn and ask him why he’s not sitting next to me, since we’re supposed to be working together, but then Dev and Niall walk in, hand in hand, their cheeks red and lips puffy. Niall’s hair is all over the place and Dev’s shirt is untucked. They’ve clearly spent the past twenty minutes snogging like there’s no tomorrow.

“If you think you’re going to get out of your class project just because you’ve found out who your soulmate is, you’re entirely mistaken,” Miss Possibelf declares, “I’m going to expect an essay on tracking spells from all of you, with no exceptions.”

“I told you so,” Bunce whispers and then Miss Possibelf starts her lesson. I take notes, but my mind is elsewhere, stuck on thoughts of Snow and my name on his lips while he was asleep.

“I’m going to give you the last twenty minutes of the lesson to work with your partner on your tracking spells,” the teacher says and I turn, finding Snow’s blue eyes already fixed on me.

“I’ll move next to you,” he says, without giving me a chance to say anything. He plops down on the chair next to mine as everyone else moves around the classroom. I notice Dev and Niall talking to Miss Possibelf, an apologetic look on their faces.

“I was thinking,” Snow says and I roll my eyes.

“Snow, please, spare me. You need a brain to think.”

“Stop being a tosser and listen to me,” he says, elbowing me (Crowley, he’s so warm), “I know you said you wanted to skip the actual tracking and pretend that we’ve done it, but I…I actually want to find my soulmate.”

I frown at him and wait for him to continue, since he isn’t making any sense.

“My…” he sighs, “I don’t know who my parents are. I don’t know where I come from. But it would be nice to at least know who my soulmate was. Track their grave or something, so that I can pay my respects.” 

“Oh…” I mutter.

“You visit your mum’s grave every day and I guess that kind of helps to feel close to her, right?” I nod and he looks sheepish as he continues, “I would like to have a chance to feel that. To have some kind of closure, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” I reply, “we can try, but I’m not sure if it’s going to work. Tracking a soulmate is already ridiculously difficult and most people don’t manage to do it. Tracking a dead one might be impossible, so don’t get your hopes up.”

I hate to see the pained expression on his face, but I honestly doubt we’ll manage to find her grave and I don’t want Snow to get his heart broken twice.

“We need to find yours too,” he mutters, “I promised that I would prove you wrong.”

“Snow, don’t waste your time,” I shake my head, “let’s focus our efforts on searching for your soulmate.”

“No way,” he replies, stubbornly jutting his chin out, “I know you don’t believe you have a soul, but you’re clearly wrong.”

I shush him and cover his mouth with my hand, without thinking, and then I stop, my eyes open wide. His lips are so warm and soft against my palm and his eyes lock with mine. I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing on his neck. Up and down.

I move my hand, slowly, and he licks his lips, as if he were chasing the taste of my skin.

“We can talk about it later,” I whisper, “in our room.”

“Yes,” he says, “in our room.”

And it feels like a promise, like something more than just a school assignment.

The bell rings and I groan, because I was enjoying working with Snow way too much.

“I’ll see you later,” I say, standing up and he grabs my wrist.

“Don’t go to the library to study this afternoon,” he says, “come back to Mummers straight away.”

I just nod, unable to speak, and then his fingers slowly leave my skin.

I still feel it prickling afterwards, running my thumb over the places where he touched me, letting my lips skim over the cold surface of my epidermis, wishing I could taste him.

**Simon**

The day goes by too slowly and I can’t stop thinking about Baz.

We don’t share any more lessons in the morning, but I spend lunchtime staring across the Dining Hall, catching his grey eyes looking back at me, not knowing what to do.

I’ve spent most of my time at Watford watching his every move, trying to find out what he was up to, but this is different. Because he’s not plotting anything this time, and I’m sure of it.

I just want him.

I’ve never had anything that was really mine, not really. But there’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than Baz. 

And I can’t pry my eyes off him.

But why is he staring back?

**Baz**

I nearly run back to my room after my last lesson, skipping tea, calling myself stupid, because there’s no way Snow has passed on a chance to have scones with way too much butter. He’ll probably arrive in half an hour and I’ll look like a right tit, waiting for him in our room like a lonely dog for his owner. 

I open the door and find him sitting on his bed, looking flustered, out of breath.

“Hey,” he says, taking his jumper off and rolling up his shirt sleeves, uncovering his freckled forearms. I swallow and feel like this is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

I take my shoes off, pretending not to pay attention to him, and then I drop my bag and sit down at my desk.

“I think we should probably start with the theory,” I announce, opening my text books, “read about finding spells and then consider which ones we should use.”

“Fuck the theory,” Snow replies, standing up and coming towards me. He smells so bloody good that my mouth starts watering, “let’s try some finding spells and see if they work.”

I look up at him and he offers his hand to me. I hesitate and then I take it, standing up, just a few inches away from him.

“Use my magic,” he says, “like you did yesterday with the Mage.”

“Snow, that’s a terrible idea,” I try to argue, because I don’t think I can survive having his skin against mine for much longer and I’m afraid feeling his magic run through my veins again will make me stupid and drunk. I’ll end up doing or saying something that I’ll regret.

“Try,” he insists, “please.”

I shake my head, but grab my wand and then feel it again, like a current, like sparks all over my skin. His magic makes me close my eyes and shudder.

“Baz,” he whispers softly.

“ ** _Come out, come out, wherever you are!_** ” I say and then I open my eyes, but nothing happens, “ ** _Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you!_** ”

Snow’s magic increases and I bite back a moan as his other hand gently rests on my hip, bringing me an inch closer.

“Try another one,” he pleads.

I cast all the tracking and finding spells that I know, using his magic, feeling it buzzing through my muscles and bones, as his hands touch me, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand, his fingers digging into my hip.

A faint light appears, hovering over our heads, and we both stare at it, but then it’s gone.

“It’s not working,” I say, whimpering and then my eyes lock with his and I feel like dying, because I know I’m going to end up kissing him, unless he stops touching me right now. “It’s not working, Simon.”

He bites on his lips, staring at my mouth, and then he sighs, letting go of me. I nearly stumble, his magic leaving my system all of a sudden, but he catches me and this time I let out a breathy little sound.

“Baz…” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against my cheek, “I…”

“We need to read more about tracking spells,” I declare, taking a step back, not trusting myself to be this close to him, “the problem is all the ones we know are for things that are close by and we might need to look at long distance instead.”

I sit down, glad that I haven’t fed yet today, because otherwise my cheeks would be on fire.

“Our Magic Words textbook has a whole chapter dedicated to these spells and I got this book from the library yesterday,” I explain, my voice sounding uncertain, “let’s read those and then we’ll decide where to go from there.”

Snow grunts and heads for his desk and I follow him with my eyes, until he sits down and suddenly all the books and pens on his desk disappear with a loud pop.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, in disbelief, “how did you do it?”

“I don’t know!” he says, exasperated, “my magic has been acting funny. It keeps on making stuff disappear.”

“If you didn’t want to study, you just had to say it,” I mutter and he turns towards me, his cheeks flushed and eyes wild.

“It’s not a bloody excuse! I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear.”

“Okay,” I say, raising my hands, “I believe you. I guess I’ll just have to lend you my book and stationery. But if you munch on my pens, I swear I will turn your hair green.”

“I could sit next to you and we could study together,” he suggests, scratching the back of his head and tugging at his curls, “so you can check on me.”

My mouth opens and I think about a million reasons why this is the worst idea ever, but before I can object, Snow is already noisily dragging his chair across the room and is placing it next to mine. He sits down and he looks absolutely edible, his cheeks flushed and lips red as he bites on them.

I slide my textbook towards him and rip a page from my notebook for him to take notes on, choosing a nice pen to give him. 

“Thanks,” he mutters.

He starts reading, tapping with his index finger on his chin, and I notice a mole on his right wrist. It’s small and looks like a coffee bean. I want to lick it so badly.

Shit, I can’t even focus enough to read a sentence, let alone study.

“Maybe I should go to the library to get more books,” I suggest, but the disappointed look he gives me makes me falter, “or I could go later.”

“Or tomorrow,” he says, nodding. He shifts an inch closer and I can feel his warm body next to mine. He smells so delicious and he’s not wearing his cross anymore, so I feel like I might sink my fangs into him if he lowers his guard. 

Crowley, I need to go back to the Catacombs later and retrieve his bloody cross, because otherwise I’m going to bite him.

“Your soulmate,” he says and I turn towards him, “who would you like it to be?”

You.

That’s the only answer that comes to my mind, because it’s the truth, as impossible as it is.

“I told you, I don’t have a soul,” I reply, shaking my head, “so there’s no point looking for my soulmate, because he doesn’t exist.”

“If he doesn’t and you’re right,” he says, tapping the pen on the desk and then absent-mindedly putting it in his mouth (I’m never going to throw it away), “would you settle for someone else?”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to,” I say. I’ve never really thought about it. 

The only one I’ve ever wanted is him.

“But what if you do and then you find your soulmate,” he says, “would you leave the other person, because they’re not your perfect match?”

“If you really love someone, they will always be your perfect match. Soulmate or not.”

That’s the way I feel about him.

He smiles at me and I feel my heart melting. It’s a good job I’m sitting down, otherwise I would be on the floor already.

We continue studying (or pretending to, in my case, because I can’t bloody well focus with Simon Snow sitting so close to me and smelling amazing) and then I notice he’s dozing off. He has barely slept in the past couple of days and he’s probably exhausted.

I look at him with the corner of my eyes, resting his face on his head and slowly nodding off. He looks adorable and I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and let him sleep on my shoulder.

I suddenly feel a wave of tiredness washing over me, making me almost feel nauseous, and I close my eyes.

**Simon**

I open my eyes and I look at him. He’s staring at me, his grey eyes clear and a smile on his lips.

I think I’m dreaming. He never smiles at me like that in real life.

“Baz,” I whisper and his hand reaches for mine, our fingers locking.

“You kept on asking me those questions,” he whispers, his eyes darkening, “and all I wanted to say is that I don’t care about finding my soulmate. Because the only one I want is you. It’s always been you.”

I feel my heart beating madly in my chest and a confession on the tip of my tongue.

“Come here,” he says, “I need you closer. I want to feel you.”

I stand up and then sit in his lap, feeling his lean body against mine as I move closer, sliding my arms around his neck and bumping my nose gently against his.

“Hey,” I whisper, “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, his cool hands on my hips, sneaking under my shirt and making me shudder as they roam across my back. “I wanted to kiss you so badly. You were sitting next to me and all I could think about was touching you and kissing you and making you mine.”

“Baz,” I say, bringing our lips together, tasting him as my tongue explores his mouth and he lets out a soft little moan that goes straight to my cock. “I want you so badly.”

My fingers slide through his soft hair, and I cup his cheek, rocking my hips as I feel that he’s hard too. I can feel him shuddering under my hands as my dick rubs against his, through the thick fabric of our trousers.

“Can I…” I ask and he nods before I can finish the question. My lips make their way down his cheeks, peppering his jaw with kisses, and he exposes his neck and gasps when I start leaving open-mouthed kisses there. My fingers fumble with his belt, unfastening and then working on his zip, feeling the urgency of my need mixing with his.

“Yours too,” he says, out of breath, and he starts unbuttoning my shirt as I undo my trousers, feeling his thumb flicking over my nipple and trying to stifle a moan, but failing.

I get both of our cocks out and the feeling of his skin against mine as he takes us both into his hand is so mind-blowing that I have to close my eyes and moan, a shudder shaking me to the core.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, stroking us slowly, way too slowly, “wait a second.”

He opens the drawer of his desk and fishes out a small bottle of clear liquid, then pours some onto his palm and starts pumping his fist faster, making me see the stars.

“Christ, Baz…”

A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he looks at me falling apart under his hand.

“Look at you, swearing like a Normal,” he says, licking his lips and I suddenly feel the need to take his mouth, so I cup his cheeks and bring our lips together, sliding my tongue into his mouth. He whimpers and his fist slows down, but then he starts pumping us again, picking up a pace.

And it’s suddenly too much, the feeling of his fingers on me, his mouth against mine, the soft needy sounds he’s making, so I feel myself tipping over the edge and I come with a groan. 

“Baz…”

“Crowley, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine, gently, his eyes so soft and full of love that I feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest.

I catch my breath and then I’m all over him, my mouth colliding with his, my hand stroking him fast until he spills against my fingers with a gasp.

I wake up with a start and find the real Baz staring at me, his pupils blown wide and his mouth open.

“I…” he murmurs and then he stands up and runs to the en suite.

I realise too late that I have a damp patch at the front of my trousers and that I’ve fallen asleep whilst sitting next to Baz. I've come in my pants after a wet dream.

“Fuck,” I mutter, “shit, shit, fuck!”

I wonder if I’ve called his name and if he has realised that I had the filthiest dream involving me and him.

I panic and try to clean myself, before he comes back from the bathroom, so I grab my wand and hope against hope that I won’t fuck up a simple first-year spell.

“ ** _Out, out, damned spot!_** ” I cast and my trousers and my underwear disappear, leaving me half-naked. 

Well, at least I’m clean…

**Baz**

Fuck.

I somehow fell asleep and had a Snow-centred wet dream.

I came in my pants like a horny fifth-year.

Aleister Crowley, how embarrassing, I don’t even know if Snow realised what happened, but he just seemed really confused. I think he woke up when I moaned.

I tell myself that everything is fine, that he probably didn’t notice because he was asleep. It’s been a hell of a day, between my best friends discovering they are soulmates and Snow being so close and friendly to me. My mind is all over the place.

I clean myself, then take a deep breath and another and leave the bathroom.

Snow is standing in the middle of the room, his hair all ruffled and cheeks pink. He looks absolutely stunning and all I want is to close the short distance between us to lean into his warmth, kiss him until he’s whimpering against my lips like in my dream.

“Baz…” he mutters, his gaze meeting mine, and then there’s a loud _crack_ and his bed disappears. 

We both stare at the empty space where it was lying, right next to mine, until a few seconds ago.

“Shit,” he mutters, covering his face with his hand, “my bed is gone.”

“Snow…”

Where the fuck is he going to sleep tonight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of got carried away with the smut *coughs* plot and I had to divide chapter 4 in two parts, so the whole fic will be six chapters instead of five. 😬

**Baz**

“They gave you a sleeping bag,” I deadpan, looking at Snow’s fingers clutching the green fluffy bag and at the blush spreading on his freckled face.

“They said they didn’t have any beds available at such a short notice,” he explains, spreading it out on the floor, where his bed is supposed to be, “the lady at the school office told me to go back tomorrow and hopefully they’ll sort it out.”

I shake my head and focus on retrieving my pyjamas as Snow sits on the floor. I’ve just been hunting and I was hoping to find him asleep in his brand-new bed (honestly, this school is in shambles if they don’t even have beds to spare for the Chosen One).

I go and brush my teeth, looking at my pale reflections in the mirror, trying to give myself a telepathic prep-talk on acting cool around Snow, but when I get back into our bedroom, I falter. Snow’s taken his shirt off and he’s lying on the sleeping bag, looking at me.

“The floor’s well hard,” he says, his eyes following me as I turn the lights off and then sit on my bed.

“What would you suggest doing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow even though he probably can’t see it.

“I could sleep with you,” he suggests and I can see his cheeks turning red in the darkness. I hold my breath and wait for him to tell me that he’s taking the piss.

Silence.

More silence.

“Are you for real?” I ask, because I’m sure he’s pulling my leg and I don’t want to fall for it like a complete tit.

“Why not? The bed’s big enough for both of us,” he says, except that it isn’t and we both know it. I feel like reminding him that I’m gay, but I don’t want him to think that I don’t have control over my impulses (which I probably don’t when it comes to him, but he doesn’t need to know).

“If you insist,” I whisper, regretting it instantly, but then he’s smiling and climbing into my bed, lifting the covers as I shuffle towards the wall and turn my back to him.

“Thanks, Baz,” he murmurs.

“Yes, sure, whatever,” I reply, hoping that I won’t get hard. Crowley, he’s so warm and smells absolutely amazing from this close.

“I’m so glad we’re having a truce,” he whispers after a few minutes, his voice sounding almost dreamy, “I’m…really enjoying…this…”

“This?” I ask, wondering if he’s referring to us sharing a bed.

“Spending time with you,” he says, turning to face my back. I take a deep breath and then turn towards him and I regret it instantly, because he’s so close and so beautiful and I love him so bloody much. It feels like my heart is about to burst.

“You like spending time with me studying?” I ask.

“Just in general,” he says, shrugging, his eyes locking with mine in the dark. The curtains are open and the sky is clear, so the moon casts a gentle light that illuminates his features. I can definitely see him better, but I’m pretty sure he can see me too.

“Mhh,” I reply, because I don’t have the courage to say that I enjoy spending time with him too.

“I think we should keep it up, even after we’ve found our soulmates.”

“You want to continue our truce?” I ask, confused, “but what about the War and the Humdrum?”

“We could fight together,” he replies, his brows furrowing, “why do we have to be on opposing sides? We could fight the Humdrum together.”

“Yes, sure,” I reply, “and then we can join hands and eat crumpets with tea together. Snow, there’s a war between the Old Families and the Mage and we’re on opposite sides, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“But I don’t want to be,” he replies, shifting closer, until our noses nearly bump together, “I want to be on the same side as you. I want to fight at your side or stop fighting altogether.”

“You’re being delusional,” I reply, whishing I could believe him and just take his offer. If only the world were less complicated. If only I had less obligations towards my family and the Magickal World. I would escape with him, take him somewhere secluded and just make sure he’s happy and safe.

If only…

“Good night, Snow,” I say and close my eyes, then I wait and wait. I open them again and notice he’s asleep, all curled up against me, as if he were searching for warmth where there is none.

I get my wand out from under my pillow and point it at him.

“ ** _Sweet dreams_** ,” I cast and then I put my wand away and finally fall asleep, lulled by the sound of his beating heart.

**Simon**

I open my eyes and he’s there, next to me, the light of the moon reflecting on his grey eyes.

“Baz,” I whisper and his fingers reach for my face, bringing our lips together. He sighs into my mouth when I open my lips and his tongue slides inside. I warm him up with my hands, pulling him closer, moving my leg on top of his and hooking it behind his thighs. I rut against him and feel him hardening under my touch, letting out a soft little moan as I suck on his lower lip.

“I want you,” he whispers, a needy plea that sounds so desperate and broken.

“Me too,” I reassure him, “I want all of you, Baz.”

He works on my trousers as I unbutton his pyjama top, uncovering perfect pale skin and lean muscles. I cover his nipple with my mouth, letting my tongue flick over it as I gently squeeze his other nipple with my fingers and he groans, rocking his hips into mine. Merlin, we’re both so hard.

“Can I touch you there?” he asks, his fingers hovering just above the elastic band of my underwear.

“Merlin, yes,” I answer, sliding my thumbs inside his trousers and pulling them down, dragging his underwear with it. We shuffle and undress completely in the darkness and I wish the moon were brighter, so that I could see him properly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and he sounds so overwhelmed by it that I want to hold him so close that we feel like one thing. I want to be inside him and I want him inside me, so that I can’t tell where he starts and I end.

“I want to feel you,” I say, my voice husky and foreign to my own ears, “I want to be all over you.”

Our naked bodies finally collide and we both moan as my skin comes in contact with his and it feels like too much and not enough at the same time. He’s so cold and I want my warmth to seep into his skin. I want him to be mine.

His hands start roaming down my back as I capture his lips into another deep kiss, gasping as he slides down my spine, his index tracing my vertebrae so gently and then dipping into my buttocks for a second. The palm of his hand cups my arse-cheek and massages it and I can’t help but moan into his mouth.

“Can I…” he starts asking and I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what he’s asking, but I nod anyway, because I want everything, anything, so I hook my leg over his and he gently opens my cheeks, his middle finger brushing against my hole. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes,” I whisper and he moves away, climbing over me, searching for something under the bed. I whimper at the loss of his body next to mine, but then he’s back again, a bottle with some clear liquid in his hand.

“Lube,” he explains and I nod, wondering if he’s ever used it before with someone else and feeling the jealousy making my blood boil. He pours some of it on his fingers and then he starts kissing me again, sucking on my bottom lip and moving his hand down, his fingers gently stroking me there.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confess, breaking the kiss, “with anyone. I’ve only ever kissed.”

“Me neither,” he replies, his eyes locking with mine, “I’ve only ever wanted to do this with you. There’s never been anyone else for me.”

“Baz…” I whimper, feeling like my heart is about to beat out of my mouth. Then he applies a little more pressure and his finger slides inside me, just the tip and it feels so odd and a bit uncomfortable, but I want it desperately at the same time.

“Relax,” he whispers, his voice low and reassuring and I nod, taking a deep breath, wanting him deeper, wanting all of him inside me. His index sinks in a little more, inch by tantalising inch, until he’s fully inside and I find myself panting against his mouth, my dick rock hard and leaking precome onto his belly. I look down and his cock is so stiff and flushed a darker colour than his normal skin tone. I wish I could see it in the daylight. I bet it looks pink and delicious.

“I want to suck your cock,” I suddenly say and he groans loudly, “I want you inside me and I want you to fuck me. I’ve got a list of things I want to do to you in my head.”

“Simon, you’re going to kill me,” he says and he starts moving his finger, slowly, in and out, in and out. I close my eyes and moan, because it feels weird and it burns a little bit at first, but then it just feels good and I don’t want him to stop.

“More,” I beg, when he hits a spot that makes me shudder by how good it feels, “please.”

I grab the discarded bottle of lube and pour some onto the palm of my hand and then I shift so that our cocks are pressed together, making him swear under his breath. I start stroking them together, while he adds another finger and I can’t keep my voice down. I feel like I’m going to go off, but in the best possible way.

“Fuck, Simon,” he whispers against my lips, “you have no idea for how long I’ve wanted this.”

I keen as he adds another finger and I feel my rim stretching to accommodate him, his fingers pounding into me and making me pant and moan.

“Baz, I’m so close,” I whimper and he starts kissing me again, until I feel my orgasm coming, a tight feeling in my belly that snaps and then I shudder as I come all over him, my arse clenching around his fingers as I feel my toes curling.

“Fuck…” I gasp, coming down and Baz stares at me, his eyes so full of love.

“You’re so amazing,” he whispers, “you’re everything to me.”

I kiss him again and then his fingers slip out and I groan. I kiss my way down his chest, touching him with my fingers, even though they’re still covered in my come. I trace the black trail of trimmed hair that leads to his crotch and then I hear his breath hitch as I lick the tip of his dick.

“Simon…” he murmurs and I lick a long stripe from the root of his cock to the head, suckling on the tip, savouring the bitter taste of his precome, “oh fuck!”

I swallow him whole and slide my tongue along his length, then start bobbing my head up and down. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I let the amazing sounds he’s making guide me. I lick and I suck and I use my hand where my mouth can’t reach, until Baz is a whimpering mess and he doesn’t even sound coherent anymore. All he keeps on saying is my name.

“Si- _aaaah_ …Simon…”

He comes with my name on his lips, shooting his come down my throat and I feel complete, with a part of Baz inside me, his fingers lovingly sliding through my curls and my name still coming out of his lips like the loveliest prayer.

“Simon…”

**Baz**

I wake up and realise that Simon Snow is curled up like an octopus around me. His legs and arms are spread over me and his curls are softly tickling my chin as he mumbles something into my neck.

“Baz…”

He’s calling my name again.

My underwear feels sticky and horrible and I shudder as I realise that I’ve come in my pants because of the umpteenth wet dream involving Snow.

“Fuck…” I swear under my breath and then he shifts, muttering something, so I disentangle myself from his embrace and head for the bathroom, starting my morning routine with the longer shower I can manage.

When I get back to the room, Snow is sitting up in bed, looking messy and adorable with his curls shooting out in every possible direction.

“Morning, Baz,” he says and then his shoulder brushes against mine as he heads for the bathroom and I can distinctly smell it on him.

Come.

He smells like semen. I thought it was me earlier, but that’s definitely him. I’ve fed enough last night that I can’t stop the creeping blush on my cheeks and Snow looks at me with his mouth agape.

“Baz, you’re…” he points at my face and his cheeks turn red. I turn and grab my school bag, ready to flee.

“See you later, Snow.”

**Simon**

We have breakfast, then go to lessons, then have lunch and I try to forget that I need to sort out the bed issue, but I feel kind of guilty for wanting to take advantage of Baz’s kindness, so I go to the school office before our afternoon lessons and ask again.

“Hello, do you have any beds available?” the lady at reception is different from the one I saw yesterday and she frowns at me.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I kind of made my bed vanish and I need a new one. If you’ve got it. There’s no rush, since I have a sleeping bag.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction and she types something on her computer.

“No beds available and I can’t process an order without the Mage’s approval,” she says staring at her screen, “he’s away on a mission and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Oh, no worries then!” I reply cheerfully, “I’ll try my luck again in a few days.”

“Would you like me to send him an email with a request?” she asks, finally looking at me.

“No need to,” I say with a sheepish grin, “I’ll be fine.”

It turns out I am more than fine.

Because I end up spending my days working on my assignment with Baz in the afternoon and then chatting with him in the evening. And we don’t fight. He doesn’t ask too many questions when I tell him that there’s still no bed available and then when night comes, we go to bed.

And I dream.

I dream of him, murmuring the most earth-shattering things in my ear, saying that he cares about me, that he wants me, that he’s mine. I dream of his hands on me and of mine all over him, learning his body, warming him up under my touch. I dream of his lips trailing kisses down my chest, pressing his soft lips against every single one of my moles, as if he were creating a map of my skin in his head.

The nights go by and I let him spread me open with his fingers. I make him come undone under my lips. I lick and I suck and taste his come on my tongue as I moan around his length.

The nights go by and I let him position me on the bed on my elbows and knees, my face pressed into the pillow that smells like him as he casts a cleaning spell that makes me shiver and then he tells me to spread my cheeks for him. I do as he asks and then moan loudly when I feel the tip of his wet tongue over my hole. He gently prods and then laps at it, a long swipe of his perfect tongue that sends me to another planet. I moan and shudder and keen while he slowly opens me up with his mouth, begging him to touch me. When he finally does, I come harder than I’ve ever had, his tongue inside me and his fingers on my cock, stroking me through my endless orgasm.

The nights go by and I never want them to end, but at the same time they’re not enough. I wake up in his arms, curled up around him and he’s finally so warm and solid next to me. But then he moves and it all ends.

I want this during the day, in real life, not just in a dream.

I want him.

I need him.

I’m this close to telling him, one evening, mulling things over in my head, my eyes closed, when I hear him shuffle next to me and I open my eyes. He’s pointing his wand at me.

“What are you doing?” I ask and he looks alarmed, almost terrified.

“I…” he mutters, “nothing, you had some dirt on your face and I was going to clean you up.”

“Baz,” I say, my tone stern, “I’ve just taken a shower. What were you actually going to do?”

He sighs and puts his wand back under his pillow.

“I was going to cast **Sweet dreams** on you,” he replies gruffly and my eyes open wide in the dark, “because you have nightmares and I just wanted you to…I mean, you thrash a lot and you wake me up, so it’s purely selfish of me to cast it.”

Have I been having those dreams because of his magic?

I turn and face the other way, feeling my chest tighten, feeling stupid and manipulated.

“Snow?” he whispers, “don’t get mad.”

“Night,” I grumble and I shut my eyes, wanting to go back to that place that only exists in my dreams, where we don’t hurt each other and Baz simply tells me the truth. Or at least a version of truth that I like.

**Baz**

I wake up to the sound of him screaming, his arms flailing and hitting me in the chest.

“Simon, calm down,” I say, gently grabbing his wrists and trying to make him stop moving, “it was only a nightmare.”

“Baz,” he whines, a pitiful sound that makes my heart clench, “you’re alright.”

“I’m here,” I whisper and he sinks into my arms, a loud sob escaping his lips, “you were gone. They had taken you and hidden you in a coffin. And I was at school and you weren’t there.”

“What?” I ask, confused, “who took me?”

“The Numpties,” he replies, “they ambushed you and then kidnapped you and you were all alone, starving in the dark, and I couldn’t find you.”

I hold him closer, bringing my lips to his forehead and letting him cry it all out.

The Numpties.

Eventually he calms down, as I stroke his hair and whisper that he’s okay and I got him, and then I give him my handkerchief and we both sit up as he blows his nose noisily.

“How do you know about the Numpties?” I ask and he tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”

“They attacked me outside of the Club last summer,” I explain, “but I managed to escape.”

His eyes open wide and he shakes his head.

“I saw that,” he says, “in a dream. I used my magic to help you.”

“Snow, that’s impossible,” I reply frowning, “you can’t use your magic in dreams. That’s unheard of. It must be a coincidence.”

“Hmm,” he hums and he sniffles again, “sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, “I have nightmares too sometimes.”

“You should cast your spell on me, so that you can get some rest.”

He looks sheepish and sorry and my heart melts.

“I don’t cast it just to sleep,” I confess in the darkness, “I just want you to have nice dreams.”

His fingers move on the blanket and they find mine, covering my hand with his warmth, making me look up at his beautiful eyes and getting lost in them.

“Maybe you should cast it on both of us,” he suggests, “so that we can both have lovely dreams.”

I grab my wand and do as he asks and then we both settle down in bed, his fingers still interlaced with mine.

“Night, Baz.”

**Simon**

That night I dream of him again, but this time we don’t have sex. We just lie in each other’s arms and his fingers slide through my hair.

“Father’s not happy with me being gay, let alone being a vampire,” he whispers, nuzzling against my neck, “I feel like such a failure all the time.”

“You’re amazing,” I reply, “and he doesn’t know you enough if he thinks otherwise.”

Little by little, as the night slips by, he tells me his secrets.

He tells me that he’s terrified that we will have to kill each other and he knows he won’t be able to do it. He’s scared of his father’s reaction when he finds out of his feelings for me. He thinks his mother would be prefer him dead rather than a vampire.

And I tell him about how empty and desperate I feel all the time, about how my parents abandoned me, how the Mage ignored me. I tell him about my summer spent wishing for him to be my soulmate only to find out that he is not. Another loss.

We hold each other as we spill our hearts and by dawn, I feel my feelings on the tip of my tongue, my heart full to the brim with love for him.

“Baz, I…”

I open my eyes and find him staring at me, his arms around mine like in my dream and a tear falls down my cheek, because this wasn’t real and I so desperately want it to be.

“Simon…” he says and then he wipes my cheek dry and smiles softly at me, “I had the best dream”.

“Me too,” I whisper.

We get ready in silence and everything somehow feels different, even though nothing has changed. His fingers brush against mine as we both reach for the door and then he’s so close that my nose is nearly in the crook of his neck. I shut my eyes and I inhale his familiar smell and it’s all over me, because I’ve sleeping in his bed for over a week and it’s become part of me.

“We’re going to be late,” he whispers and I open my eyes, but he’s not moving.

I reach for his cheek with my fingers and they’re trembling as my digits come in contact with the cool skin of his face. He leans into my touch and lets out a little sigh.

I stand on my tiptoes and brush our noses together and hope that he won’t punch me or push me away, but his eyes lock with mine instead and his arm slides around my waist, bringing me closer.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, his lips so close that I can almost touch them.

“Something I should have done ages ago,” I reply and I break the distance between us, bringing our lips together and finally kissing him.

And it’s like a bomb has gone off in my chest, because my heart’s about to explode as he brings me closer and moans into my mouth, his lips opening to let my tongue slide inside. And we’re all over each other, his lips pressed against mine, his hands on my back, my fingers in his hair and then on his cheeks.

He deepens the kiss and this feels so familiar that I think I’m going to cry. Because I know this feeling. I’ve kissed him like this a million times in my dreams. I already know the taste of his lips and the feeling of his lean body pressed against mine.

I know this.

I’ve done it before.

“Baz…” I whisper when we part to catch our breath, “I…we…”

“I know,” he murmurs and then his lips collide with mine again and again.

I feel like I’m finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to update as soon as I can, but I am working on several WIPs at the moment (I may have signed up for quite a lot of events...).  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think. 💙


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut with feelings, anyone?  
> Here you go!

**Baz**

Snow’s fingers close around a crumpet dripping with butter and he slowly brings it to his mouth. I swallow and his eyes lock with mine across the room. He freezes and licks his lips, a slow drag of his pink tongue over his top lip, so obscene that I feel my cock stirring in my pants. 

Crowley, I can still feel those lips on me, the tingling feeling of his mouth colliding with mine, of his warmth making me slowly melt.

“Planet Earth to Baz,” Dev says, waving a hand in front of my face and I frown. Snow smirks and finally puts the bloody crumpet in his mouth, his blue eyes never leaving me.

I wish I were that fucking crumpet. Butter and all.

“He’s gone,” Dev mutters to Niall, “I think it’s the family pressure. It finally got to him. I knew uncle Malcolm was too strict.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dev,” I say, finally glaring at him and breaking eye contact with Snow, “I was just deep in thought. I know that sounds like sci-fi to you, but some of us still use our brains.”

“Aaaand he’s back,” my cousin declares, rolling his eyes at Niall.

“How are you doing, Baz?” Niall asks with a serene smile and I can’t help but notice the way his hand grabs Dev’s and gives it a gentle squeeze, making my cousin smile like a love-sick puppy. 

Disgusting. Both of them. 

Bloody hell, I wish I had what they have. 

“I’m feeling marvellous,” I lie, “how are you two doing? Still soulmates?”

“Yes, and very much in love,” Dev says, winking at Niall and making him blush.

“Chomsky, I’ve lost my appetite,” I sigh dramatically and they decide to ignore me and start snogging instead. Can’t even have breakfast in peace.

I look back at Snow and his eyes are still glued to me, in spite of Bunce clearly trying to get his attention and failing.

I wonder if he’s thinking about our kiss. I wonder what it meant and why he did it. 

I know he broke up with Wellbelove, but I don’t think that means he’s gay. He’s as straight as they come, as far as I know. Maybe it was all a strategy of some sort. But I doubt it. Snow is normally very direct and doesn’t beat around the bush.

Why on earth did he kiss me like the world was about to end?

**Simon**

I want to kiss him again.

I want to put my hands on him and pull him closer and slide my tongue against his and make him moan and shudder in my arms like he did this morning. I want to see him lose his composure, looking messy and desperate with want, his eyes so alive and needy.

We were running late for breakfast and he was the one who broke the kiss to say we should probably go. I would have stayed. I would have skipped breakfast and lunch and all our lessons to have a chance to kiss him like that again.

“And that’s why I think we should all work together on the project. I mean, Baz has probably figured it all out already.”

“Hm?” I finally look at Penny when she mentions Baz. He’s still staring at me, so I cast another glance at him and smile. I bet that if he had enough blood in him, he would be blushing by now. 

Merlin, he smelt so good earlier.

I think I'm in love with him.

“So you agree, don’t you?” Penny says and I nod.

God, I want him so badly.

**Baz**

The morning goes by too slowly and we don’t share any lessons. I can’t really focus and I try to take notes, but I end up staring outside and thinking about Snow’s hot mouth and the way it felt. 

Like in my dreams.

I’ve never kissed anyone before and yet it felt so familiar.

I consider skipping lunch and just grabbing something from the kitchens to hide somewhere and eat it in peace and quiet, when Bunce catches up with me after my last lesson, Snow trailing after her.

“Hello Basilton, I was thinking we could meet up this afternoon to discuss our Magic Words project,” she says looking at me above her glasses.

“And why would we?” I ask, “I thought you were working with Wellbelove.”

“I am, but we seem to have reached an impasse and we’re running out of ideas. Simon agreed with me that we’re better off working together.”

“He did?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. I thought he wanted to work with me.

“I did?!” Snow asks, looking mildly constipated.

“Simon, I asked you at breakfast and you nodded,” Bunce says, hands on her hips.

“I wasn’t listening to a word you were saying,” Snow admits sheepishly and I can’t help but laugh, making Bunce glare at the both of us, “I had other things on my mind…”

He looks at me and I realise that he was busy staring at me at breakfast.

Crowley, Simon Snow was thinking about me. 

About our kiss.

“Shall we meet up in the library after the lessons to discuss tracking spells?” Bunce asks, looking like she won’t accept no for an answer. And I’m kind of terrified of facing Snow after we kissed, because I don’t know if I can keep my hands off him. I’m going to end up confessing my feelings and making a fool of myself, so I stupidly agree.

“Okay, let’s meet in the library.”

The look he gives me (like I’ve just murdered a puppy) makes me falter and think that I should have said no, fuck off Bunce, we’re going back to our room to snog each other senseless. But it’s too late.

“Great, see you later then!” she says, dragging my roommate away.

I’m a fucking idiot. 

**Simon**

“Agatha’s late. I think she might not come,” Penny says, sounding annoyed. 

Baz arrives, looking bored as he slowly walks towards us, all long legs and elegant strides. I just want to push him against a shelf and kiss him until he’s a whimpering mess.

“Bunce,” he says, then his grey eyes meet mine and I feel like a spark going off between us, “Snow.”

Penny may be the brain between the two of us, but I’ve actually thought this through. I’ve convinced her to sit down opposite me and I’ve put my bag on the chair next to mine. When Baz approaches, I move my bag and stare at him, a challenge in my eyes. He sits down next to me without saying anything and I move a little bit, then shift a bit more, until our thighs are touching.

His breath hitches in his throat. I know I run hot and he likes it. He’s like a cat, looking for warmth, basking in the sunlight. I want him purring under my fingers, coming undone.

“Have you had any luck with finding spells?” Penny asks Baz and I let him explain what we’ve tried, while my fingers move under the desk, gently brushing against his knee, feeling him tense and then relax when my palm opens up and just rests there, solid and warm.

“Agatha and I haven’t managed to find our soulmate,” Penny says, “every time she tries tracking spells, they point at her, which makes zero sense. If I try them, they just either point west or they don’t even appear.”

“Maybe it’s because Micah is so far away,” I say and she frowns.

“I have something to confess…” Penny mutters and then she rummages in her bag and gets her crystal ball out.

“Surely you’re not trying with divination,” Baz arches an eyebrow at her, sounding sceptical.

“I have already and the results have been…surprising,” Penny says, sounding confused, “every time I ask the ball where my soulmate is, a name appears, but it’s not the place where Micah is.”

“What name appears?” I ask, suddenly curious.

“Nebraska,” Penny says.

“Where on earth is that?” I ask and Baz looks mildly bored, so I squeeze his knee and my hand moves a few inches up his thigh. He stops breathing for a few seconds.

“It’s in America,” Penny explains, “and Micah’s never even been there. Simon, I think he’s not my soulmate.”

I stare at her with my mouth open. 

“What? But Penny…”

“I spoke to him,” Penny says, looking like she might start crying, “and he said he’s been seeing someone else. So I’m pretty sure he’s not the one…”

“Penny, I’m so sorry…”

I think I’m supposed to stand up and hug her or something, but I just feel awkward and rooted to the spot and then Baz’s hand moves and closes on top of Penny’s.

“I’m sorry, Bunce,” he says, “he clearly didn’t deserve a brilliant person like you. But at least it looks like you have a soulmate who is waiting for you.”

Penny blinks a few times and then she nods, her lips in a thin line.

“Yes…” she says, then she sniffs, “that’s why I wanted your help to track him down. I think he’s too far away and I can’t figure out a way to narrow down my search.”

“I’ve heard some people were trying the Google Maps spell, but I haven’t read anything about it,” Baz says, taking his hand back and placing it under the desk, a few inches from mine.

“It’s worth a try,” Penny says and then she looks at me, “would you like me to see what my crystal ball says about your soulmates?”

“No,” Baz says.

“Yes, please,” I reply, shooting him a defiant look and grabbing his hand under the table. 

Penny puts both palms on her ball and closes her eyes and I take advantage of her distraction to move a little bit closer to Baz, bumping our shoulders together and looking up at him. His lips part and I wish I could kiss him right now.

Penny starts mumbling things under her breath and then there’s a flash of light coming from her ball and we both look at it.

“Oh…” she says and then she tilts her head, “it says that both of your soulmates are here at Watford.”

“What?” I ask, excited and confused, “both of them?”

“Your ball is clearly broken,” Baz says, “Snow’s soulmate is dead and the last person to have been buried on school grounds is my mother, so there’s not a chance that his soulmate is here.”

“Are you sure?” Penny asks and I feel the little hope that has gathered in my heart melting like snow in the sun. Baz seems to realise and he squeezes my hand, giving me a longing look that makes me want to curl up in bed with him and just breathe in his smell with my eyes closed.

“Shall we have a look at some books and see if we can find other spells to use?” Baz suggests, “Snow and I can search the old books and you can ask the librarian if she’s got anything about the Google spell.”

Penny agrees and as soon as she’s gone, Baz stands up, taking my hand and leading me to a section of the library where I’ve never been, full of dusty books and narrow corridors between shelves that reach the ceiling. It’s dark and it smells a bit funny, but it’s just the two of us. 

Baz leaves my hand, but I reach back and lace our fingers together again, staring at his grey eyes and trying to find something to say. He just looks at me and I feel my heart beating madly in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind his ear.

“About what?” I ask, hoping against hope that he’s not going to say about kissing me this morning.

“About crushing your hopes on finding your soulmate at Watford,” he says, and I suddenly feel like I don’t care about finding my soulmate anymore. All I care about is Baz, he’s all that’s on my mind and I step closer, making his eyes open wide.

“Simon…” a mere whisper, coming from his parted lips. 

I lean closer and tilt my head up, brushing our lips together. And then I close my eyes and I feel his fingertips gently touching my cheek and a sigh coming from his mouth as he softly kisses me. 

It’s just a brush of lips against lips, the most tender thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. He kisses me like I’m fragile, like I’m made of spun sugar or butterfly wings. His breath caresses my skin and his arm slowly circles my waist, bringing me closer, until our chests are flush. I dare to move, slowly, afraid to break the spell, reaching for his cheeks. I slide my fingers through his hair, making him moan softly against my lips.

“Baz…” I whisper, feeling like I’m about to shatter, like my heart is going mad.

“Shh,” he says and then he opens his lips and grants me access, and I whimper as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tasting me, making me groan and press against him. And I’m greedy, I always want more, because I’ve never had enough of anything. So I tug at his hair, gently, and push him against the shelf, making our kiss more desperate and messy, until he’s panting in my arms and I want to be all over him, inside him and I want him inside me too.

“We need to get back,” he says, his brows creased and I know deep down that he doesn’t mean it.

“No,” I say, “I’ve got you where I want you and I’m not letting you go.”

Our lips collide, again and again, until he’s babbling and whimpering, hard against me, and I want to sink to my knees and take him in my mouth, like I’ve done so many times in my dreams. And I wonder if it’s going to feel the same, or a million times better, like our kisses.

“Simon!” Penny calls and we part, as if shocked by electricity, staring at each other as we try to catch our breath. His lips are pink and wet after I’ve sucked on them, and his hair is the loveliest mess. I swallow and catch him staring at my neck. “Baz?”

“Coming Penny, give us a minute!” I shout and try to straighten my clothes, to think about something, anything, that will get my cock to calm down and stop tenting my trousers.

“Fuck,” Baz says and he somehow manages to sound posh and composed even when he’s swearing and sorting out his hair with his fingers.

“Think about the Mage,” I suggest and he looks at me with a horrified expression on his face, “to get that down.”

I point at his dick and he covers it with both hands, as if I hadn’t been grinding against it two minutes ago.

“Thanks a lot, Snow,” he mutters, “now I’ll never be able to get it up again.”

“Later,” I whisper, closing the distance between us again and kissing him softly, one more time, “I’ll help you with that later.”

**Baz**

Aleister fucking Crowley.

He’s going to kill me.

And he’s definitely not as straight as I thought he was, which is good news. He also seems to enjoy kissing me, which is also a lovely surprise. 

Who am I kidding, it’s fucking heaven on earth and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. I’m starting to suspect I might be hallucinating or maybe it’s all a fucked-up dream, when Bunce eventually finds us and we have to follow her back to our table. I grab a giant tome to cover my lap, while Snow walks behind me. He’s so close that I can hear his heart beating madly in his chest.

“Here they are, Agatha,” Bunce says and I realise that Wellbelove is sitting at our table, looking uncomfortable and slightly worried.

“Hi,” Wellbelove says, avoiding our eyes.

“So, we found out about the Google Maps spell, but apparently it can be a bit unreliable,” Bunce explains.

“I thought so,” I say and then we all sit down and stare at the massive atlas that Bunce has opened in the middle of the table.

“You have to cast **Google Maps, where’s my soulmate**? and then the little icon should appear on the map over the place where your soulmate is. Shall I go first?” she asks and we nod. I hold my breath as she casts the spell and then a tiny purple icon appears over Nebraska, rotating for a few seconds and then disappearing.

“Maybe you should try with a map of the U.S.,” I suggest.

“Okay,” Bunce says and I can see that she looks nervous. She flicks the pages of the massive book and then stops when she finds a map of America. She casts the spell and the small icon appears again. We all get closer to check where it has landed.

“Omaha,” Snow announces, “never heard of it.”

“Me neither,” Bunce says nervously, “I need to do more research. Your turn, Agatha.”

“What?” Wellbelove looks mildly alarmed, but Bunce moves the atlas towards her and finds the page with a map of Great Britain.

“Come on, I know you were worried about it.”

Wellbelove stands up and gets her wand out and I can smell the worry on her, the usual flowery smell that lingers to her clothes mixed with a sour tinge and a bit of sweat.

“ ** _Google Maps, where’s my soulmate_**?” she casts and a minuscule pink icon appears over Watford, rotating once and then disappearing after a couple of seconds.

“There you go, he’s at Watford!” Bunce exclaims triumphantly, “that’s great. It narrows it down.”

“Hmm,” Wellbelove says, chewing on her nails and frowning.

“It’s your turn, gents,” Bunce announces with a smile and I freeze. I have zero intentions of casting the spell for myself, but I am willing to help Snow, if he wants to find his own dead soulmate.

“Shall we start with you?” I ask him and he grabs my arm and starts sharing his magic with me, making me bite back a moan as I close my eyes and I feel his sizzling magic sending sparks through my body. 

“Can you cast for me?” he whispers and I nod, opening my eyes and getting my wand from my sleeve.

“ ** _Google Maps, where’s Simon Snow’s soulmate?_** _”_ I cast, using as much of his magic as I can, and we all gasp when a massive blue icon appears over Watford, rotating and staying in place.

“I knew my crystal ball was right!” Bunce exclaims and Snow’s eyes lock with mine.

“He’s here,” he says, “my soulmate’s in Watford.”

“He?” Wellbelove asks, but Snow ignores her and sends more magic through the spot where his fingers are digging into my arm.

“Your turn, Baz.”

“No,” I reply, “I’m fine. I don’t want to check.”

“Come on,” Bunce says, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “we showed you ours. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The worst that can happen is that nothing appears and they realise there’s something deeply wrong with me. Because I don’t have a fucking soul and I’m half-dead. 

“Can you please leave us alone, ladies?” Snow asks, his blue icon still slowly moving in circles over our school.

Bunce and Wellbelove look at each other and then they shrug.

“Okay, but I want to meet up tomorrow to go over other spells,” Bunce says, packing up her things. Wellbelove is already out of the door before Bunce has gathered her bag, waving at Snow.

“Try,” Snow insists, his magic still rushing through my veins, making me light-headed and soft, “please, Baz.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

I’m only doing it for him.

“ ** _Google Maps, where’s my soulmate?_** _”_ I open my eyes and the blue icon turns grey, still moving over Watford.

Shit.

I have a soulmate.

And he’s here.

“I…” I don’t really know what to say, except that I feel like I might have a panic attack. Snow’s hand leaves my arm and he stands up.

“See, I was right,” he says, avoiding my eyes and grabbing his bag, “you have a soulmate. You just need to find him.”

“Where are you going?” I ask, but he’s shaking his head and he looks like he might start crying.

“I need to…” he mutters, “I have to go.”

He leaves me in the library, staring at my fading grey spot, pointing at Watford. And I’m so lost that I feel like fucking crying.

Because the last thing I wanted was a soulmate.

**Simon**

I run back to our room, because I don’t know where else to go. I close the door behind my back and sink to the floor.

Baz has a soulmate.

I knew it was a possibility, because I couldn’t believe he didn’t have a soul. But it means that there’s someone out there for him. 

Someone better than me. 

And now that he knows, he will want to look for him. He won’t want me anymore. I’m the worst Chosen One ever, he’s said it so many times. I’m messy, I don’t have a family, and I can’t do magic properly and he’s just bloody perfect and deserves someone who matches him.

I feel hot tears running down my cheeks and they taste salty on my lips, burning a cut on my bottom lip, where I’ve chewed it raw. I sob on the floor, hugging my legs, because that’s the disaster that I am. I don’t even have a bed where I can lie down to fall to pieces.

Time goes by and I miss tea, but I don’t feel hungry anymore. The room gets darker and I sit at my desk, pretending to study, just in case Baz walks in and finds me crumbling to pieces.

And I suddenly feel so fucking tired of it all.

I just can’t take it anymore.

The only thing I wanted was Baz and I thought I finally had him.

But now…

**Baz**

I hunt in the Catacombs, trying to sort out the mess in my head, and then go back to Mummers House, wondering if Snow is going to be there.

I find him sitting in the dark, an open book in front of him.

“Snow…” I say and he simply shakes his head, without even turning to look at me. 

I take my shoes and coat off and I sit at my desk, wondering why he’s suddenly so upset. And then I feel a wave of nausea that makes my head spin. I groan and close my eyes, my head in my hands, and then I sink into thick darkness.

**Simon**

I open my eyes and I know straight away that it’s just a dream, because the room is lighter than it was a minute ago. I turn and Baz is there, looking at me with a desperate expression on his beautiful face.

“I don’t want a soulmate,” he says, standing up and walking towards me, “I don’t fucking care what that stupid spell has made you believe, but I am not going to look for him.”

“You’re not?” I ask, failing to make the hope spill out of my voice, “but he’s going to be your perfect match.”

“You’re the only one I want,” he says, breaking the distance between us and grabbing my shirt, pulling me closer, “you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. You are my perfect match, Simon Snow.”

I cup his cheeks and stand on tiptoes as I bring our lips together, kissing him like he’s the only thing that I need, making him whimper and shudder in my arms as I suck on his lips and taste him with my tongue. And then my hands are all over him, grabbing and pulling, unbuttoning his shirt and then ripping it open when my clumsy fingers fail to unbutton it. I slide it down his shoulders and arms and then toss it away, like it’s an offending item.

“That was my favourite shirt, Snow. You’re such a brute,” he says, because even in dreams he has to be a snarky wanker, but I smile and bite on his bottom lip instead.

“Shut up and kiss me, you tosser,” I say and he groans, kissing me messily, until I groan and grind against him and then I just want to feel him against me. I want his cold skin pressed on mine. I want all our clothes gone.

I want to crawl inside his veins.

There’s a loud pop and we’re suddenly starkers.

“What the fuck, Simon,” he mutters, “you’ve vanished our clothes.”

I don’t even bother replying and I slide my warm hands over his chest, down his side, digging my fingers into his hips as I pull him closer. We both gasp when our hard cocks bump against each other and he rocks into me, pressing me against the desk.

“I want you,” I groan, “I want to feel you inside me.”

His hands roam down my back, grabbing my buttocks and massaging them, pulling me closer as he kisses me breathless.

“How do you want me?” he whispers in my ear after breaking the kiss and then he captures my earlobe between his lips, making me shiver.

“I want you to fuck me,” I say and my voice sounds like it’s about to crack. I sound so needy and vulnerable and when I look into his eyes, I can see that he feels the same way.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but I already feel his fingers moving down, parting my cheeks and gently brushing against my entrance.

“Yes,” I reply, nodding, “I want you so badly, Baz.”

He kisses me once more and then he turns me around, pressing gently on the small of my back, making me lean forward as he leaves a trail of kisses down my spine, his hands stroking my thighs, making me relax and open up for him. He grabs his wand from the floor and casts a cleaning spell on me, sending a shiver down my spine.

I hear his knees hitting the floor and then I close my eyes.

“Spread your cheeks for me, love,” he says and I do as he asks, feeling exposed and so ridiculously horny. My face is on fire as I lean over the desk and part my buttocks with my trembling fingers.

I can’t help but moan when I feel his tongue on me. He licks a long, wet line from my balls up to my hole, flicking his tongue over the pucker and groaning as he laps at it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I feel my toes curling as he makes me lose control with his tongue, relishing the debauched sounds that he’s making with his face buried between my arse-cheeks. “Baz, I’m not going to last long, if you keep on doing that. And I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckles and slaps my arse gently as he moves again and leaves me whimpering. He then casts a cleaning spell on his mouth and grabs a bottle of lube from under the bed.

I turn to look at him, cheeks all pink and cock hard, leaking and flushed.

“God, you look so beautiful,” I say and he comes back to me to kiss me longingly, his hands on my hips, keeping me in place while he demolishes what’s left of my sanity with his mouth.

“Want you,” he whispers, breaking the kiss and I nod.

I turn again, facing my desk, and he starts preparing me, sliding a slick finger inside me and making me groan under his touch. I know he’s watching me; he likes looking at me when I’m falling apart because of his hands and mouth. And then there’s a second finger, followed by a third and I suddenly can’t take this anymore. I haven’t even touched myself and I feel like I might come any minute now.

“Baz, come on,” I plead and he kisses the back of my neck and then pulls his fingers out of me, making me gasp. He takes a few seconds to slick up his dick and I peak at him, feeling nervous and excited at the same time. And then his hand rests on my hip, a solid feeling, keeping me grounded as he positions himself between my cheeks.

“Are you ready, love?” he asks and I nod, because I’m too gone for words already. 

He gently presses his dick against my entrance and I take a deep breath, trying to relax. His fingers stroke my hips so tenderly and he whispers soothing words into my ear.

“Shh, relax, I've got you,” he says, “I’m going to make you feel so good, Simon. I just want to be inside you. I’ve wanted it for so long. You have no idea how much I need you.”

He presses himself through the tight ring of muscles, letting out a shuddered breath as it gives way to let him in. I feel the head breach me and I shut my eyes, swearing under my breath, because Baz is inside me and he feels so bloody huge. My hole stretches around the crown of his cock and then around the shaft, as he works his way in slowly, down to the hilt. I can feel him panting against the sensitive skin of my neck and then laying a soft kiss under my ear, making me groan.

“Crowley, I’m inside you,” he murmurs, sounding overwhelmed and out of breath, “Simon…”

I feel so full and stretched and it burns. I think I forgot to breathe the moment he entered me and the lack of oxygen is making me light-headed.

“Simon, breathe, love…” he whispers, “breathe…like that, darling. You feel so tight, so good for me.”

I shudder and he gives me time to adjust, to breathe through the intense feeling of having him inside my body, to stop trembling in his arms, before he moves again. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You can start moving,” I say, because I feel like I’m going bonkers and I want to just feel him.

He starts moving slowly, tiny rolls of his hips pushing himself deeper inside me, making me feel like he’s pulling me apart and putting me back together at the same time. And then he changes angle and he hits a spot that makes me swear out loud and see the stars.

I moan, low and raw, and Baz fucks me deeper, his ragged breathing sending sparks of pleasure through my system, because I’m making him feel good with my body. I’m making Baz lose control and pound into me, calling my name like a prayer, over and over again.

“Fuck, Simon…” he says, almost pleads, “I…”

I can feel that he’s close and I want to come with Baz inside me, so I start pulling at my cock. It’s leaking so much pre-come and I’m so unbelievably hard and feel so good that my mind is about to explode.

I feel the inevitable rush of my orgasm building, the heat pooling in my groin and I shudder as the pleasure ripples through me, spilling ropes of come all over my desk and my books, gasping as I shudder through what's left of my mind-blowing orgasm.

“Fuck, Simon…” Baz groans behind me, grabbing my hips and fucking me harder, and it only takes him three, four deep thrusts and then he’s coming inside me, whimpering as his forehead rests against my neck and he whispers my name through shuddered gasps.

“My love,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my spine and I moan, feeling my skin on fire for him.

He pulls out and I wince because I suddenly feel sore and then my eyes open.

And the room is darker.

But I can see my come splattered on the desk, covering my Magic Words book.

I’m naked and I stare at Baz’s hands, still holding my hips, his grip loosening on my skin. I can hear him, panting behind me, his body a solid presence against me.

“Baz?” I ask, my heart beating madly in my chest as I turn, and he’s there, his eyes still closed and with a blissful expression on his flushed cheeks.

“Simon…” he whispers and then his eyes open. They lock with mine and then they open wide, scanning my naked body and then his own. He takes a step back, his lips apart and quivering. “What…”

The light goes on because of my magic and we both stare at each other for a moment that feels endless. My eyes roam over his naked body, his softening cock, still slick with lube and dripping come.

“I thought it was a dream…” he suddenly says, shaking his head, “wasn’t it? What have I done? Aleister Crowley, Simon, what have I done to you?”

“No, it was not just you, Baz. Calm down; I had the same dream,” I reply, “I wanted it, all of it. I’ve been dreaming about you for months. I’ve been dreaming of touching you and kissing you and saying things to you…”

“What?” he says, his voice soft, uncertain, “me too.”

“Baz, I…” the open window suddenly clatters as a bird flies in, bringing a message from the Mage.

He wants to see me. Right now.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, groaning, “why now?”

“He said it’s urgent,” Baz says, looking like he’s seriously considering murdering the Mage.

I just stand there looking at him, afraid to touch him, so bloody confused.

We had sex.

Real sex.

We dreamt the same dream.

“Simon, he’s waiting for you,” Baz reminds me, but I’m still rooted to the spot, “you need to go.”

“Will you wait for me here?” I ask, sounding insecure, but he nods.

“I’ll wait.”

I move and then I stop in my tracks when a trickle of his come slides down my thigh, making me whimper softly.

“Crowley, Snow,” Baz groans, his dick twitching and starting to thicken again, “you’d better leave now or I’ll fuck you again.”

“When I come back,” I say and then he grabs his wand and points it at me.

“I know you don’t like it when people cast their magic on you, but you can’t go to the Mage smelling like sex and with my come still inside you. **_Clean as a whistle_**.” 

I shudder as his magic laps at my skin like fire, cleaning me, but leaving me still raw and slightly sticky. I feel particularly depraved at the thought that there’s still a bit of him inside of me and I love that.

"I don't mind it when it's your magic," I say, blushing, "I actually quite like it. I like it when you touch me."

And it feels like the stupidest confession to make, since he was inside me less than five minutes ago, but I just want him to know that I love what we've done. That it was me as much as it was him.

I put my clothes on in a hurry and then move back towards Baz and lean in for a kiss. He grabs my face and his tongue licks into my mouth, making me moan and wish that I didn’t have to go. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to strangle the Mage so much.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, looking soft and dishevelled, but determined, “and we’re going to talk.”

“Okay,” I reply, our lips brushing together one more time, “I’ll be back quickly. Don’t get dressed.”

“Honestly, Snow,” he huffs, but his cheeks turn pink and I smile at him.

Merlin, I can’t wait to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you got mad at Penny a few times, but she's nothing like him. Davy Mage, the ultimate cockblocker.  
> Next chapter should be the last (I say should, because my brain somehow keeps on coming up with more plot and I hope I'll manage to squeeze it all into one chapter) and I'm going to try to finish it by the end of next week.  
> On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me for the evil cliff-hanger? Feel free to let me know in the comments!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Sorry it took a while, I am working on something like six different WIPs at the moment.  
> I actually considered not writing any smut for this chapter, but then I just couldn't help myself (who was I kidding, right?)  
> Enjoy!

**Baz**

I smell like him.

I stare at my naked body, still trying to catch my breath, and I look at my cock, still covered in lube and come. I shudder as I remember the feeling of sinking into Simon’s tight heat.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

We had sex.

It was a dream and then it kind of wasn’t and I don’t know what to think anymore. I didn’t even know that could happen, but trust Simon Snow’s crazy magic to come up with shared dreams. _Wet dreams_.

I feel disgusting, covered in sweat and bodily fluids, but I still smell like him and I inhale deeply.

Fuck.

I head for the en suite and turn the shower on, as hot as I can manage and then I let the water wash away my thoughts, focusing on just the feelings.

Simon’s body against mine. His heart beating madly as I held him. The way he kissed me before he left. The dreams we have been sharing.

I want to let go, for once, to let myself believe that I can have this. That I can trust Simon and be honest with him.

I’ve said so much already in our dreams, that he will have figured out my secret. He probably knows that I’m madly in love with him.

But from what he said, he has feelings for me too. At least he wants to touch me and kiss me and let me take him.

I try not to think about the sex, because otherwise I’ll get hard again and I promised Simon that I would wait for him.

I turn off the water and dry myself with a soft towel, then I go back to our room and get dressed with a simple blue shirt and a pair of dark grey trousers.

I sit and wait.

I think about reading a book, but I won’t be able to concentrate.

How long is it going to take him?

Bloody Mage and his terrible timing.

I fish my mobile phone out from under the bed, looking for a distraction, and I turn it on.

Twenty-four unread messages from Fiona.

Shit.

**Simon**

“Take a seat, Simon,” the Mage says and I start fidgeting as soon as my arse touches the chair. I feel a bit sore down there and this is the most ridiculously uncomfortable wooden chair I’ve ever sat on. Shit, I should have asked Baz to cast a healing spell on my arse before leaving.

I hope this is not going to take too long.

“As you know, the Old Families have been continuing their battle against us,” the Mage declares and I shift on my chair, trying a different position, “and unfortunately the situation is getting worse by the day. I have caught Fiona Pitch snooping around Watford a couple of times this week and that can only mean that they are ready to attack.”

“Baz’s aunt was here?” I ask, confused. Did Baz know about it?

“You’re not safe at Watford, Simon, and that’s why I’ve arranged for you to leave the school this evening.”

My mouth opens and I shake my head. Not this again.

“Sir, as I already sa-“

“You’re going to do as I say!” he declares, his expression stern and commanding. And I would normally just give in. I would usually trust him, because I know he has a plan and it’s all for the greater good.

But not today.

Not when it comes to me leaving Baz.

“No,” I say determinedly, “I’m not leaving Watford.”

“The school is not safe,” the Mage repeats, standing up and looming over me, making me feel small and insignificant. I clench my fist and gather as much courage as I can.

“If I leave, I’m taking Baz with me,” I announce, staring into his eyes and he frowns, looking at me as if I had grown a second head overnight.

“What?!”

“I’m not leaving without Baz,” I insist, “so if you want me to go, he’s coming with me.”

“Are you out of your mind, boy?” he asks, “he’s a Pitch!”

“I know, but he’s my roommate. And…lately we’ve been getting on well and…he’s become so much more than just my roommate…” I don’t want to tell him that I’m in love with Baz, but I want him to understand that he means the world to me. “I trust him. I know Baz wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He’s brainwashed you, then! Because he’s definitely plotting against you.”

“He isn’t!” I insist, “he’s smart and he cares about me and I…I do too.”

The Mage stares at me and then he seems to have figured something out, because his mouth opens wide and he mumbles something.

“The Crucible,” he says, “I should have thought about it…”

“What?” I ask.

“Simon, have you found out who your soulmate is?” he asks out of the blue and I frown at him. What has that got to do with anything?

“My soul bond is severed, Sir,” I reply, “it got broken when I was little.”

“How old, precisely?” he asks and somehow, he doesn’t look surprised by the news.

“Uhm, about five, I guess.”

“I see,” he replies, pacing around the room. My leg bounces up and down and I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin. I want to go back to Baz. I don’t want to stay in this room one minute longer. I have a really bad feeling and I don’t even know why.

“Can I please go, Sir?” I ask, my palms sweaty with anxiety and my magic starting to make me feel too hot. He shakes his head.

“You need to leave, without the Pitch boy.”

“No,” I reply, “I’m not going to. Unless Baz is coming with me.”

I feel my magic starting to stir, like a whirlwind picking up speed inside my veins, but the Mage seems to be too worried with whatever is making him pace around the room to notice.

“My men are going to take you directly to the safehouse and then we’ll decide what to do next and act. I think war is inevitable at this point.”

The room suddenly fills with smoke and the Mage’s eyes open wide as he stares at me and it all happens too fast, so much faster than usual, that I think I’m going to go off in his office and injure him really badly, because I feel so out of control.

“Simon, calm down.”

“No!” I shout, and I can barely see in front of me, because there’s so much smoke and the room is so hot and I’m about to lose the little control I have left, then the Mage opens the windows and lets the cool evening air in.

“Okay, calm down,” he says in a voice that is probably meant to be soothing, but just sounds panicked, “you can go back to your room tonight. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

I try to reign it back in, to make my magic simmer down, but it just won’t cooperate.

I want Baz here.

He would know what to do.

“ ** _The calm after a storm_** ,” the Mage casts on me, but the spell just bounces back and he looks petrified. I’ve never seen him like this, “Okay, you win! You can stay at Watford with the Pitch boy!”

I take a deep breath and then another and another, closing my eyes, until my magic finally quiets down and the smoke disappears. And I feel like I’ve run a fucking marathon. I’m sweaty and exhausted and the Mage looks at me in fear.

“Go back to your room,” he says and I just nod, “I’m so disappointed in you, Simon. I thought you cared more about what is really important.”

I close my eyes and wish that I cared too. About the war and the Old Families and doing my part. But I’m so tired of fighting, of feeling like a pawn, of being lonely and scared and hollow. I need Baz to make me feel safe and maybe loved.

I think he might love me.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I say and then I stand up and leave.

I run all the way to Mummers House and up the stairs. I’m out of breath when I open the door.

But Baz is not there.

**Baz**

“What the actual fuck, Fiona!” I hiss, crouching down and hiding behind a bush.

“Your legs are too bloody long,” she complains, “they’re sticking out.”

I swear under my breath and sit crossed-legged.

“If I ruin my trousers, you’re going to get me a new pair,” I threaten and she rolls her eyes.

“What’s more important, the Mage plotting against us or your stupid trousers?” she asks.

“They’re Armani!” I argue, but she blows a raspberry and then we both shush each other, because we’re supposed to be hiding just outside of Watford gates. The Mage’s men are out of sight, but they might be back any minute.

“I’m going to get in so much trouble,” I say, “just spill the beans quickly before curfew starts.”

“The Mage asked the Numpties to kidnap you,” she says without preamble, “I’m sure of it. Your father doesn’t believe me, but I’ve found the Numpties and made sure they told me the truth.”

I shudder and stare at her.

Fuck.

“Are you one hundred percent sure, Fi?” I ask, because as much as I hate the Mage and want him to rot in hell, he’s still the closest thing Simon has to a father and I don’t want him to hate me again because I’ve framed the bastard.

“Positive,” she says, looking all serious, “I just need to convince the Coven and then we’re striking an attack. You’re not safe here, boyo. I need you to come home with me.”

“No,” I reply.

No fucking way. I’m not leaving Simon now that I’ve found out that he likes me.

“What do you mean no?” she asks, her brows creasing in worry.

“I mean that I’m staying,” I reply, “I’m more useful here where I can keep an eye on the Mage. And don’t frown; you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I’m not getting wrinkles, you wanker!” she replies, outraged, touching her forehead.

“Fiona, you’re no spring chicken, let’s face it.”

She gasps, outraged, and punches me on the arm.

“Take it back, you little shit! I’ve come all the way from London to take you to safety and you call me old!”

I laugh and nudge her with my shoulder.

“Thanks,” I say, winking at her, “but I’ll be okay. I’m staying here.”

She eyes me suspiciously for a few minutes and then blows on a loose lock that has escaped her messy bun and is falling onto her face.

“I don’t buy it,” she says, “there’s another reason why you don’t want to leave.”

I try to look elsewhere, but she grabs my chin and stares at me straight in the eyes and then she smirks.

“Basil, have you met a bloke?” she asks and I swallow.

“Something like that,” I reply, smiling.

**Simon**

I take a shower because I’m all sweaty and I stink and then I put some clothes on and run to the Dining Hall. Dinner is almost over and I doubt Baz has left the room to eat, but I have already checked the Catacombs and he wasn’t there.

“There you are, Simon!” Penny says when I sit down in front of her.

“Hey, Penny, have you seen Baz?”

“No, he wasn’t at dinner,” she replies, looking confused, “have you two cracked the mystery of your soulmates?”

“Nah, but I think we’ve cracked another mystery instead,” I reply, stealing one of her chips. I’m starving.

“Hey, get your own dinner and leave mine alone!”

I go and grab some food and when I come back to the table, Agatha is there and she looks like she’s about to cry.

“Okay, I can’t stand this anymore,” she says and I stare at her as I stuff my face with steak and broccoli (they had run out of chips, bugger).

“What’s the matter, Aggie?” I ask through a mouthful of veg and Penny casts a disgusted look in my direction.

“My soul bond,” she says, looking at her hands, “it’s all wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘wrong’?” Penny asks, turning to look at her in the eyes.

“You know how it’s supposed to start on your little finger and then stretch into the distance and disappear?” Agatha asks and we both nod.

“Wait, is it severed like mine?” I ask, horrified.

“No,” she says, “it…it just…”

“Come on, Agatha, just tell us!” Penny says, losing her patience.

“It’s attached to my other hand,” Agatha blurts out and she stares at Penny and then at me, “it goes from one hand to the other.”

“Oh,” I reply.

We sit in silence and then Penny puts her hand on Agatha’s shoulder.

“I need to read more about this, because I’m not entirely sure how it works,” she starts cautiously, “but I think it simply means that you don’t have a soulmate.”

Agatha makes a kind of choking sound at the back of her throat and I think she’s going to start crying, but then Penny pats her back.

“What I mean is that you don’t have one, because you don’t need it,” she explains, “you know how the whole soulmates idea is related to Plato’s _Symposium_?”

Agatha nods, but I shake my head and Penny huffs.

“Seriously, Simon? Where’s your head in lessons?”

Probably busy thinking about Baz.

“Plato said that humans were originally created with four arms and legs, a head and two faces,” Penny explains.

“Gross!” I say, stealing one of her chips. She’s distracted.

“Anyway, humans were so complete, perfect and powerful that Zeus split them in two separate parts.”

“What a twat,” I say and both ladies scowl at me.

“From that moment, humans spend the rest of their lives looking for their other perfect half,” Penny says and we both stare at her.

I think I know who my perfect half is.

I don’t need a bloody thread to tell me.

“Do you mean that I haven’t been split in half?” Agatha asks and Penny shrugs.

“I’m not sure, but I think you’ll be okay, with or without a partner, to be happy and to feel complete. You’ll be fine on your own.”

Agatha seems to mull things over and then she finally smiles timidly.

“Maybe it’s not so bad, then.”

I stand up and decide it’s time I go back to my room and look for my perfect match.

“I need to go, sorry.”

I run back and open the door, hoping to find Baz there, but the room is still dark and empty. I put my pyjamas on and then read in bed for a bit, but I can’t concentrate.

Where is he?

Did he change his mind and just leave?

The door finally opens and Baz steps inside, eyes shining when they land on me.

“Baz,” I whisper, “what happened?”

“My aunt Fiona,” he explains, “she wanted to talk to me.”

I’m surprised that he admitted she was here at Watford, that he’s not keeping it secret, but my heart skips a beat when I realise that he’s not plotting like the Mage suggested. He’s telling me the truth for once.

“Come to bed,” I say, blushing, “it’s late.”

“I’ll brush my teeth and join you,” he says and he looks so awkward and vaguely sheepish that I feel like crossing the short distance that separates us to wrap him in my arms.

He changes in the bathroom (I guess old habits die hard) and then he turns off the lights, but leaves the window open.

“I thought you were cold,” I mutter with a smile, lifting the blankets to let him in.

“You run hot,” he replies, “it’s like sleeping with an open fire.”

“You like it, don’t you?” I tease, running my finger on his chin and lifting it up so that he’s finally looking into my eyes. He’s so beautiful in the moonlight, pale skin like the finest porcelain and silver eyes.

“How did it go with the Mage?” he asks and I grimace.

“He wanted to make me leave again, says the Old Families are plotting and your auntie has been spotted at Watford.”

“Shit, they saw Fiona then!” he says looking worried.

“What is she plotting anyway?” I ask, running my fingers down his cheek, stroking the soft skin behind his ears and down his neck. He shudders and I move closer, our knees bumping and chests suddenly pressed flush.

“She found out who sent the Numpties after me last summer,” Baz replies, his eyes leaving mine, “they were asked to take me and keep me in a coffin for at least a couple of months, feeding me nothing but blood.”

I shudder, horrified, and my fingers stop moving. I slide my arm around his back and bring him even closer.

“Who did that?” I ask.

“You won’t like it, Simon,” he mutters, “I think it’s better if you stay out of it. I don’t want you to hate my family even more than you already do.”

“Who?” I ask again.

He sighs and rests his forehead against mine.

“Please don’t hate me,” he whispers, “not when I’ve finally found you.”

“It was the Mage, wasn’t it?” I ask and he nods, looking pained and trying to move away from my embrace, but I hold him tight.

I kiss him, the softest brush of skin against skin, feeling him tremble in my arms. I’m not good at handling fragile things; my hands are clumsy and rough, but I still hold him like he’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had in my arms, because he is. I kiss him like he’s made of butterfly wings, like he might shatter unless I hold him and show him how much he means to me.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips and his eyes open wide. The room is dark but I can tell that they’re about to fill with tears.

“What?” he whispers.

“I’m in love with you,” I say, “I’ve been for a while, but I’m a bit thick and it took me ages to realise it.”

“You’re not thick,” he murmurs, trembling fingers cupping my cheek as his lips press against mine, “and I love you too, you absolute nightmare.”

“You do?” I ask, my heart soaring in my chest, beating like a mad tambourine.

“Yes, Crowley your heart is so loud,” he says, placing a hand on my chest and looking like he doesn’t know whether to start laughing or crying.

“I guess I’m just happy…really happy, probably for the first time.”

“Simon,” he whispers and then our lips collide again and I wrap my arms around him, hooking my leg over his and deepening the kiss, my tongue licking into his mouth, making him moan.

“I can’t believe we’ve already had sex,” I mutter, kissing a trail down his neck, sucking at a spot beneath his ear that makes him whimper. I wonder if I can leave a mark if I suck hard enough.

“We can always do it again,” he suggests, rocking his hips against mine. He’s so hard, but so am I.

“I’m a bit sore down there,” I confess, “so you’ll need to cast a healing spell.”

He stops moving and cups my cheeks, moving my face so that he’s staring at me.

“I’ve hurt you,” he says, panic seeping through his words, “fuck, Simon, I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t worry,” I reply, kissing his nose, “I’m just a little bit sore because it was my first time and I had to sit for ages on the Mage’s infernal wooden chairs. Seriously, Baz.”

He looks like his heart is about to break and I kiss him again, and again, until he’s pliant in my arms and he’s whimpering as I slide my hand through his pants, stroking his cock slowly.

“I want to suck you so badly,” I murmur against his lips and he groans. We take our clothes off as fast as we can manage and then he lies on the bed, his legs open as I settle myself between them. I run the flat of my tongue over his length, making him shudder as I suck on the tip, sliding my tongue under his foreskin.

“Shit, how are you so good at this?” he groans and I chuckle.

“I had plenty of dream practice,” I reply, swallowing him whole and pumping my head up and down his cock, hollowing my cheeks when I realise that it drives him mad with need. His fingers slide through my curls, but he doesn’t tug at them. He strokes them gently, like I’m something lovely that he wants to cherish.

I love the taste of him, the noises he makes as I pick up the pace, the way his eyes lock with mine and then close when it gets too much for him, to then open them again.

He tells me how good I am, how beautiful, how lovely. All those things that I’ve only ever dreamed about and that fill my hollow heart with so much love and happiness.

“Fuck me,” he says, a broken whisper, “fuck me, Simon, please.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, my mouth leaving his dick with a wet debauched sound.

“Yes, we’ve never done it like that and I want to feel you. I want it to feel real.”

He hands me the lube and I start preparing him, slowly, one finger at a time, because I don’t want to hurt him. He feels colder inside than I do, but he quickly warms up as I slide another finger in and a third, until he’s a babbling mess, his cock leaking into his belly and cheeks flushed.

“Please,” he begs and I slick up my cock as I line up against his hole.

“Do you want me to use a condom?” I ask, but he shakes his head.

“I’ve only ever done it with you and…if it’s fine with you, I’d like to feel you.”

“Yes, me too. Maybe you should turn,” I suggest.

“I want to kiss you,” he confesses it like it’s a thing to be ashamed of, so I lean down and lick his pouty lips, then kiss him deeply and messily, until he’s begging me to take him.

I slide inside him, the slowest push I can manage as I moan into his mouth, my fingers digging into his thighs. Baz’s breath hitches in his throat and I breathe into his mouth, staring into his eyes.

“Breathe,” I say soothingly, “in through your nose, out through your mouth. There, like that. You’re so lovely, Baz, and you feel absolutely amazing. Can you hear my heart beating?”

“So fast,” he murmurs, “so loud.”

“It’s beating for you,” I say, “saying _I love you_ in Morse code.”

“Sappy moron,” he says with a chuckle, but I can tell that he’s happy.

“I love you,” I repeat, “I love you so much it hurts.”

“Simon…”

I start moving, shallow thrusts that leave me breathless and aching for more, until I change position and hit the right spot that makes him scream and moan. And then he begs me to fuck him harder and I’m lost in the feeling of being inside Baz, of sinking into him, feeling like we are one thing and soon I’m coming so hard, feeling him calling my name and holding me tight, the wet spurts of his come hitting my chest and his.

“Fuck…” I gasp, pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to him. I try to catch my breath and come down from my orgasm. “Baz we’re never leaving this room. Ever again.”

He laughs and it’s the best sound in the world, filling the room and my heart with joy.

“Let me cast a healing spell on your arse,” he says, after cleaning us up with his burning magic.

“ **Get well soon**?” I ask, but he smirks and he’s made of trouble.

“I was actually thinking of **Kiss it better**.”

**Baz**

We’re in love.

Simon Snow is in love with me.

Aleister Crowley, I am living an unbelievably charmed life.

I feel like I’m walking on a fucking cloud for the next week. We hold hands under the desk in class, eat together, study together in the afternoon and the night…my dreams come true. Literally.

I’m so out of it that I accidentally forget to watch my back.

My guard slips and I hold his hand on the way to Mummers. I kiss his cheek in a dark corner of the library and then he captures my lips and pushes me against a shelf, making a bunch of books fall to the floor in a cloud of dust. The librarian is not impressed with us. He smiles at me like I mean the world to him.

Bunce frowns. Niall raises an eyebrow and Dev, well, Dev is his usual oblivious self…

But then I notice a few people looking at us in a curious way.

I know I should be more careful, keep it quiet, but I’m so in love that my heart is about to burst and Simon has the subtlety of a Labrador puppy.

And then one evening he grabs my hand, as we’re walking past the White Chapel, and he looks at me like I’m the moon to his sun, standing on tiptoes as he kisses me tenderly. It’s dark and there’s no one around because it’s close to curfew, so I let myself have this moment with him, bringing him closer so that I can kiss him like the world is about to end.

I melt in his arms, because this is too good to be true.

And it is.

I feel a spell hitting me, an agonising pain that ripples through my body like needles and knives in my flesh. Simon screams against me, his blue eyes opening wide.

“ ** _Time to split_**!” a voice shouts from behind us and Simon is suddenly dragged away from me, hitting the wall of the White Chapel and collapsing onto the ground.

“Simon!” I shout and I go for my wand, but it’s too late.

“ ** _Cat got your tongue!_** ” the Mage shouts and my voice temporarily dies in my throat, as I stare at him with wide eyes, “ ** _Don’t move a muscle!_** ”

I’m immobilised and cannot speak. Simon is on the floor, blood dripping from a wound on his forehead. He moans in pain and it’s the worst sound in the universe.

“Baz?” he asks and then he takes the whole scene in. The Mage with his wand raised at me, my mouth moving without any sound coming out, the frantic expression on my face. “What are you doing, Sir?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he says, stepping closer to me. He takes my wand from my stiff hand and puts it in his pocket.

“That’s Baz’s wand. You can’t take it!” Simon shouts, because he’s slow to catch up and he has no idea what is about to happen. But I know. I know it was all too good to be true and I’m going to pay for letting my guard down, for thinking I could have this, could have him.

“I should have asked the Numpties to end you,” the Mage whispers in my ear, while Simon tries to stand up.

“You need to give me your magic, Simon,” the Mage tells him, stepping away from me, “the time has come and the Humdrum is about to strike again.”

“But I…” Simon mutters, looking at me, “what about Baz? We could fight together. I can control my magic better with his help.”

“It’s too late and you, my boy, are too weak. You’re a faulty container for a precious quantity of magic. You can’t control it, but I can. I will release Basilton as soon as we’re done, I promise. No harm will come to him.”

I plead with my eyes not to believe him. I try to telepathically warn him that the Mage is lying and Simon’s blue eyes are so huge and full of fear as he stares at me.

Then the Mage raises his wand towards him.

“Now, Simon, give me your magic.”

Simon closes his eyes.

“ ** _Hell hath no fury_**!” a voice shouts and I see fire, hitting the Mage in the chest, the flames licking at his body like a snake, erupting from a staff that an approaching figure is holding in her dirty hands. It’s the goatherd. “Leave the children alone, Davy!”

“Stay out of this, woman!” the Mage shouts, “ ** _Resistance is futile_**!”

She seems to absorb the spell and lets the force of it shake her body like a branch in the wind. Simon stares at them, petrified.

“Ebb!” he shouts, “what are you doing?”

“She’s doing what the Coven should have done ages ago!” my aunt shouts and I see her running towards us, fury painted on her beautiful face as she starts casting a spell after another at the Mage, trying to dodge Simon and me. 

“ ** _Helter skelter_**!” the goatherd shouts and the ground starts shaking, making me collapse with a thud, unable to move my hands to break my fall. I bash my head against the floor and silently wince. Simon crawls towards me, as the Mage is too busy fighting both women back to notice what we’re up to. He lifts my limp body up and holds me in his arms.

“Baz, are you okay?” he asks, “what shall I do?”

I wish I could answer, but in the meantime, Fiona has managed to immobilise the Mage, thick ropes curling around his chest, so tight that he gasps and clenches his teeth.

“What were you trying to do to Simon and the Pitch boy?” the goatherd asks and the Mage spits at her, making Fiona growl and grab his hair in her fist.

“How dare you?” Fiona hisses at him, “I should kill you now that I have a chance.”

“Fi, we spoke about this,” Ebb says, “we’re going to take him to the Coven and they’re going to decide what to do with him.”

“You’ve got nothing against me,” the Mage says, looking furious, “nothing!”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Fiona drawls, her voice pure venom, “I spoke to the Numpties and then I had a chat with an old friend, after my sister paid me a visit. Remember Nico? He told me a lot of interesting things about the vampire attack at Watford.”

My mother? She visited Fiona?

The Mage pales and he groans.

“I should have sent the vampires after you too, not just your sister.”

My eyes open wide and Fiona finally looks at me, an apologetic expression on her face.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, boyo.”

**Simon**

Baz is quiet. His aunt spelled his voice back and he can move again, but he’s still not talking.

She takes him aside and puts a hand on his back as she talks to him, Baz’s lips in a tight straight line.

“The Mage sent the vampires, Simon,” Ebb says, sitting next to me on the ground, crying as she tells me what happened, “and he also sent the Numpties. I know he was like a dad to you, but he was lying about a lot of things.”

I look at her and feel a bit lost. Everything is falling to pieces around me, but Ebb smiles at me through the tears. She leans closer and hugs me tight. She smells like the earth and the goats, like something familiar that I can’t really place.

“You’ve still got me, though,” she murmurs, “and the Pitch boy. And I think Fiona, as long as you don’t hurt her nephew. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

I nod and then stand up and go where Baz and his aunt are. His eyes lock with mine and I can see his lips wobble.

“Simon…” he whispers. And although I reckon I’m still shit at hugs, I wrap him in my arms and stroke his back. He starts crying, little sobs that shake his shoulders as I kiss his head and whisper that I got him.

His aunt looks at me and her expression softens.

“It had to be you…” she says, shaking her head.

**Baz**

“I can’t believe my mother visited Fiona,” I finally confess, a whisper in the darkness of our room. Simon’s arms are wrapped around me, my head on his chest, his heart beating a steady rhythm that keeps me grounded. “I wish she had come to visit me.”

“Maybe she will,” he says, “there’s still time.”

“Perhaps she didn’t trust me with the mission to avenge her,” I mutter, trying not to sound like my heart may break at the thought.

“Nah,” Simon says, kissing the top of my head, “you’re the best at revenge. You’re ruthless and determined. And graceful.”

“Thank you, I guess…”

And then, as if called by magic, a faint light appears next to the bed. I lift my head from Simon’s chest and we both sit up, staring at the ghost that is slowly taking shape.

“Mother?” I ask in disbelief, a choked sob escaping my lips.

She looks exactly the same way I remember her. My eyes fill with tears and I try to wipe them away, because I desperately want to see her, to soak up her beautiful smile and kind face before she disappears again.

“My little puff,” she whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

Her cold hand brushes against my cheek and then she leans forward, kissing my forehead.

And she disappears.

“Simon…” my voice cracks, “my mother…”

“She said she’s proud of you, see?” he says and I let him cuddle me, holding me close and warming me up with his strong hands, letting the sobs shake me and soak his t-shirt, until we both fall asleep, lulled by the sound of his beating heart.

This time I don’t dream of him, but of my mother. Of playing on the carpet of her office with my lego bricks, looking at her face scrunched up in concentration as she works. I call her name and her expression softens and fills with love. She holds her hands out for me and I climb into her lap. I tell her that I love her and she kisses my cheeks.

“Baz?” Simon whispers, waking me up, and I open my eyes, “your mum’s back.”

It’s still pitch black and I must have slept for less than an hour. I stare in the darkness and there’s a faint light again next to the bed, but it’s not my mother.

“Simon, that’s not…”

The figure is so blurry that I struggle to make out her features, but then she gets closer and places a hand on Simon’s cheek, making him shudder.

“My rosebud boy…” she whispers and her voice is so faint, but I understand straight away.

“Simon, that’s _your_ mother,” I whisper and the ghost smiles at us. She smiles exactly like him.

“Mum?” Simon asks, his voice shaking, “I…I…”

She points at Simon’s finger and then points at me.

“Not broken,” she murmurs and then she disappears.

We sit there and I can hear Simon’s heart beating like a mad tambourine. I hold his hand while his breathing calms down, then he looks at me in disbelief.

“She died…” he says, “she didn’t abandon me…”

“Yes,” I reply, squeezing his hand, “she called you her rosebud boy.”

Simon looks like he might fall apart, but then he stares at his hand and at me.

“What did she mean when she said ‘not broken’? Do you think she meant my bond? Baz, I don’t care if I have a soulmate. I only want you.”

“Are you one hundred percent sure it’s broken?” I ask, frowning.

“Yes, since I was five,” Simon replies, “but it doesn’t matter.”

I freeze.

“Five?” I ask, staring at him, my heart clenching in my chest.

That’s when I was turned.

That’s when my soul died.

“Yes, have I never told you?” he asks.

“No, you plonker,” I reply, thinking back of all the times we tried tracking spells. They always pointed at us. Right at us. I’m supposed to be smart and yet I didn’t even consider checking.

“Simon, let’s cast the soulmate spell together,” I say, grabbing our wands and handing him his, my fingers shaking at the thought that this could work.

“Why?” he asks, confused and still half-asleep.

“Trust me,” I say.

“ ** _Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know_** ,” we both say, casting the spell at the same time and knocking on our chest, and I hold my breath as a thread appears from my little finger. It’s silvery blue, tied on my knuckle, curling up from the knot and lying limp. But then something happens. I can see the same thread on Simon’s finger and it flickers, then moves.

Both threads start stretching towards each other, mending themselves in the process, until they finally meet in the middle. An explosion of light fills the room with sparks so bright that I can see every single freckle on Simon’s face.

“Not broken,” Simon utters in awe, “you’re my soulmate!”

We both start laughing and then he kisses me, clumsily because he can’t stop grinning and I feel like I might start crying any minute, but he won’t stop touching me with those warm hands of his and his lips are all over me.

“I love you,” he whispers, “so much.”

“We match,” I reply, smiling back at him.

We match.

“I can’t believe you were my soulmate all along,” he says after a while, still holding my hand, sending a bit of his magic through my system and making me giddy with it.

“That’s probably why we were sharing dreams. Your magic reacted with the bond somehow,” I reply, “I think I need to study this. I might ask Bunce if she has read anything about it. We could go to the library tomorrow afternoon.”

“Baz?” he says.

“Hm?” I ask, looking at his mouth stretch into a big yawn.

“Stop being a swot and kiss me.”

For once, I do as he says without complaining.

He’s my soulmate.

He loves me.

Crowley, I am living a charmed life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this story! Please let me know what you thought.  
> In case you've missed it, I have already started my next SnowBaz fic (it's a fairy tale AU with an arranged marriage and everyone is cursed by the Mage), you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378850/chapters/72170538).


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